Chapter 7 - Packing Up the Lies
The sound of duct tape being ripped from a cardboard box filled the grand hallway as the movers I had hired began boxing up Margaret and Chloe’s personal belongings.
Chloe was sitting on the floor by the front door, crying hysterically into her designer handbag while her phone continued to buzz with alerts from her landlords and credit card companies.
“You can’t take my clothes! These were gifts!” Chloe screamed as a mover tossed several sequin dresses into a brown carton.
“Gifts purchased with embezzled corporate funds are subject to asset recovery,” Marcus informed her without looking up from his clipboard.
Daniel walked slowly down the stairs, carrying a single cardboard box containing his desk trinkets and a framed photograph of himself receiving an award he hadn't actually earned. He looked smaller somehow, stripped of his tailored suits and the arrogant posture that had dominated our household for years.
He stopped in front of me, his eyes bloodshot and desperate.
“Natalie... please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “We can talk about this. We can go to counseling. I was stressed about the company. You know how much pressure I was under.”
I looked at the empty space where my front tooth used to be, feeling the smooth porcelain of the permanent bridge my dentist had installed two days ago.
“You were under pressure, Daniel? Try standing in this kitchen with blood running down your chin while your mother hands you a glass of water and tells you to use a filthy rag,” I said quietly. “You didn't break me. You just woke me up.”
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Daniel swallowed hard, a tear finally spilling over his lower eyelid. “Is there nothing left of us?”
“There never was an ‘us,’ Daniel,” I replied, standing up and smoothing down my skirt. “There was only an extraction machine, and you forgot to check who owned the factory.”
