Chapter 3 - The Blackmail Folder
Diane stopped reaching for the kitchen phone, her hand hovering in mid-air as all the color drained from her face.
Megan completely froze, her eyes widening in pure terror as she stared at the thick manila folder on the island.
“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” Megan stammered, her voice cracking pathetically.
I leaned against the granite counter, crossing my arms over my dark military t-shirt.
“I spent the entire night running a deep-dive background check on your sudden financial crisis,” I explained calmly.
“You didn’t lose your apartment because of a bad investment, Megan; you were quietly fired for stealing corporate funds to fund your candle business.”
Ethan walked down the stairs, rubbing his tired eyes, completely oblivious to the massive bomb I had just dropped.
“What is all this yelling about?” Ethan complained, tying his bathrobe.
Diane quickly tried to grab the folder, but I slammed my hand down on top of it, securing the evidence.
“Ethan, your sister is a felon, and your mother has been helping her hide the stolen money in offshore accounts,” I revealed loudly.
Ethan looked at his mother, expecting her to immediately deny the insane accusation.
Instead, Diane looked away, her silence screaming absolute guilt.
“Mom? Is that true?” Ethan asked, his voice trembling with sudden shock.
“We were going to pay it all back once the candle company took off, Ethan, it was just a temporary loan,” Diane defended weakly.
I let out a harsh, bitter laugh that echoed through the tense kitchen.
“You bought custom floral wallpaper and antique furniture with stolen corporate funds,” I corrected her sharply.
I picked up the folder and tapped it aggressively against the granite countertop.
“You wanted rules in this house, Diane, so here are my new guidelines,” I announced with total authority.
“Number one: You and Megan have exactly two hours to pack all your belongings and vacate my property.”
“Number two: You will refund every single penny you made from selling my furniture by noon today.”
Diane gritted her teeth, her previous arrogant demeanor completely shattered by the exposure of her crimes.
“You can’t just throw us out onto the street, Laura, we have nowhere else to go!” Diane pleaded.
“Then you better start packing quickly, because the police response time in this neighborhood is only about ten minutes,” I warned her.
Megan immediately started crying, running back into the guest room to throw her clothes into garbage bags.
Ethan stood in the center of the kitchen, looking completely defeated and entirely useless.
“Laura, please, they are my family, we have to find a way to fix this together,” Ethan begged me.
I looked at the man I had married, realizing he was far too weak to ever stand by my side in a real fight.
“They are your family, Ethan, but this is my house, and you have exactly two hours to pack your bags too.”
Ethan gasped, stumbling backward as if I had just physically punched him in the chest.
“You’re kicking me out too? I’m your husband!” Ethan yelled, finally showing a spark of anger.
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“Not for long,” I replied smoothly, pulling a second, much thinner folder from my backpack.
“Because while I was investigating Megan’s theft, I also found the secret bank account you opened with my deployment pay.”
