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Chapter 12 - The Matriarch's Fury

It took exactly ten minutes for the next phone call to come through. This time, the caller ID didn't say Mark. It said 'Brenda'—my wonderful, perpetually dissatisfied mother-in-law.

I let it ring three times before sliding my finger across the screen. "Hello, Brenda."

"Listen to me, you little brat," Brenda snapped, bypassing any form of a greeting. Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "I don't know what kind of childish tantrum you're throwing back there in the dirt, but you will fix this immediately. My son works hard to provide for you, and if he wants to take his family on a well-deserved vacation, you have no right to financially abuse him!"

I had to laugh. The sheer audacity of this woman was almost impressive. "Financially abuse him? Brenda, he paid for this trip using an account funded entirely by my grandfather's inheritance."

"As your husband, what is yours is his!" she barked back. I could hear the echo of the hotel lobby in the background, along with the hushed, frantic whispering of Mark's sister, Chloe. "Now, you are going to call your bank, and you are going to pay this hotel bill. We are being humiliated!"

"You should ask Mark why the accounts are frozen, Brenda," I said, my tone eerily calm. "Ask him who is staying in the room down the hall from yours. Ask him what the Oakridge Fertility Clinic is."

"What are you talking about? What clinic?" she demanded, but her voice faltered slightly.

"Like I said, ask Mark. And while you're at it, ask him how you're going to get home, because I just canceled his return flights."

"You wouldn't dare!" Brenda screeched. "We are two thousand miles away from home! Chloe has a spa appointment in twenty minutes!"

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"Better cancel it to avoid the cancellation fee," I suggested. "Though, I suppose you don't have the money to pay that, either. Good luck, Brenda. A little hard work finding a bus terminal will be good for you."

I hung up and blocked her number, followed immediately by Chloe's. My heart was pounding, but not from sorrow. It was adrenaline. For years, I had bent over backward to please that family, serving them holiday dinners, biting my tongue when they insulted my clothes, my house, and my parents. The chains were finally off.

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