Chapter 6 - The Son’s True Colors
The silence in the dining room stretched into something heavy, toxic, and suffocating.
Ethan’s initial shock—the pale terror that had washed over his face when he first heard our mother’s name—slowly dissolved, replaced by a chilling, calculated composure. He straightened his tie, smoothed his jacket, and let out a dry, cynical laugh that sounded like shards of glass grinding together.
“Are you out of your absolute minds?” Ethan spat, his voice dripping with venom. He looked from me to Lucas, and finally let his eyes rest on my mother with undisguised contempt. “What is this? Some pathetic theatrical stunt? Did you hire some random homeless woman off the streets, clean her up, and try to pull off a cheap parlor trick to blackmail me?”
My mother flinched, a fresh wave of pain crossing her aged features.
“Ethan…” Mary whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s me… I used to sing you to sleep when you had a fever… I used to make you strawberry pancakes on Sunday mornings…”
“Shut up!” Ethan snarled, taking a furious step forward, his finger pointing aggressively at her face. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare come into my sister’s house playing some demented role just to extort money from the Vance estate!”
“Ethan, stop it!” I screamed, stepping directly between my mother and my brother, my hands trembling with white-hot rage. “Look at her! Look at the birthmark on her shoulder! Look at her face! She is our mother! Dad lied to us!”
“Dad didn't lie!” Ethan yelled back, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. His eyes were wide, frantic, and desperate. “Dad told us she was gone! And even if—hypothetically speaking—some crazed vagrant managed to crawl back out of the woodwork after twenty years, do you seriously think I’m going to let a mentally unstable street beggar destroy everything we’ve built?”
Lucas stepped forward, his massive frame towering over Ethan. His voice was dangerously calm, a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
“Watch your tone, Ethan,” Lucas warned, his blue eyes narrowing into lethal slits. “You are speaking to your mother. And you are speaking in my house.”
Ethan glared at Lucas, panting heavily, his face flushed with adrenaline and fury. He realized he had crossed a line, but his panic overrode his manners. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth across the Persian rug like a caged animal.
“You don't understand,” Ethan muttered, speaking more to himself now than to us. “If word gets out that Mom is alive… if the media finds out Dad tried to kill her… do you know what happens to Vance Enterprises? The board of directors will vote me out of the CEO chair by morning. The municipal contracts will be instantly revoked. The lawsuits will bankrupt us down to the last penny. Our entire family name will become a punchline on the evening news.”
I stared at my brother, feeling a profound, chilling wave of disgust wash over me.
Twenty years ago, my father had chosen his empire over human life. And now, looking at Ethan, I realized the disease had metastasized. My brother wasn't just defending a legacy; he was protecting his stolen throne, even if it meant denying his own flesh and blood a second time.
“So that’s it?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “You’d rather let her die on the streets—you’d rather pretend she’s a fake—just so you don't have to split your precious inheritance?”
Ethan stopped pacing. He looked at me, his eyes cold, devoid of any remaining warmth or familial affection.
“She’s legally dead, Sabrina,” Ethan said coldly, adjusting his cuffs once more. “There is a death certificate filed with the state of Arizona, signed off by a probate judge twenty years ago. Legally, she doesn't exist. And if you try to bring her forward, if you try to challenge the estate or drag our father’s name through the mud… I will destroy you both. I will hire the most vicious legal team in the country, I will have her declared mentally incompetent and locked away in a psychiatric ward, and I will sue you for fraud.”
The threat hung in the air, sharp and absolute.
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, not out of fear, but out of pure, unadulterated fury. My own flesh and blood—the little boy I had protected when our father shouted—was threatening to lock our mother away in an asylum just to protect his bank accounts.
Before I could lunge across the table and strike him, Lucas placed a heavy, grounding hand on my shoulder.
Lucas stepped forward, looking down at Ethan with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
“You think you hold all the cards, don't you, Ethan?” Lucas asked softly.
Ethan sneered. “I hold the company, I hold the lawyers, and I hold the legal death certificate. What do you have?”
Lucas pulled a sleek, encrypted tablet out of his suit jacket and tapped the screen twice.
“I have the original financial ledgers from twenty years ago,” Lucas said smoothly. “The ones your father tried to burn in his private study the night he attacked Mary. The ones your mother risked her life to protect. And more importantly… I have the digital audit trail of every single bribe, payoff, and safety violation you’ve personally authorized since you took over as CEO of Vance Enterprises over the past five years.”
Ethan’s face went from chalk-white to a sickly, ashen gray. His jaw dropped open, but no words came out.
“You see, Ethan,” Lucas continued, walking slowly toward him until they were standing nose-to-nose, “while you were busy hosting country club galas and buying sports cars, I’ve spent the last six months quietly buying up your corporate debt, auditing your construction projects, and quietly securing cooperation from your chief financial officer.”
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Ethan stumbled backward, his knees knocking against a dining chair. “You… you audited me? Why?”
“Because,” Lucas said, his voice dropping into a chilling whisper, “I’ve always hated men who prey on the vulnerable. And nobody—nobody—threatens my wife or her mother in my house.”
