Chapter 6 - The Flying Monkeys
By Tuesday morning, while I was deep in the digital labyrinth of Grandfather Arthur’s trust fund documents, my phone began vibrating incessantly on the desk. My parents, having likely discovered through their social channels that I had not reported to my normal office that morning, had initiated phase two of their damage control: unleashing the extended family network to bully me into submission.
I looked at the caller ID. It was Aunt Beatrice—my mother’s older sister, a woman who lived her entire life as a glorified amplifier for my mother’s country club gossip. I pressed a button on my recording software, linked the audio feed to my encrypted hard drive, and put the call on speakerphone so Alex could hear every word.
“Victoria Mercer, what on earth is wrong with you?!” Aunt Beatrice’s voice shrieked through the speaker, vibrating with self-righteous indignation. “Your poor mother is sitting in her kitchen crying her eyes out right now! She told me you drank an entire bottle of wine on Saturday night, started a screaming match with your father over the seating arrangements, and fell headfirst into the bar patio!”
“Is that what Eleanor told you, Beatrice?” I asked, my voice calm, level, and utterly devoid of emotion.
“Don't you dare use that sarcastic tone with me, young lady!” she snapped. “Your father is sick with worry! Chloe is traumatized! And now we hear through the country club grapevine that you’ve hired some downtown litigation lawyer to harass your own family? Family forgives, Victoria! You march over to your parents' house right now, apologize to your sister for ruining her evening, and tell whatever lawyer you hired to drop this ridiculous nonsense before you destroy the family name!”
I leaned back in my leather chair, looking at the spreadsheet of fraudulent wire transfers blinking on my screen. “Beatrice, let me explain something to you very clearly so you can report it back to Eleanor and Richard. I did not fall. Richard threw a lead-crystal bourbon decanter directly into my face from six feet away while Eleanor laughed and told Alex to dump me.”
“That is an absolute lie! Your father is a gentleman!” Beatrice gasped, though a tiny flicker of doubt caused her voice to waver.
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“We have the entire assault recorded in high-definition 4K video, Beatrice,” I continued smoothly. “The police have the footage. The district attorney has the footage. And as of 4:00 PM today, a permanent protective order will bar Richard, Eleanor, and Chloe from coming within a thousand feet of me. So if you call my phone again to interfere with an active federal criminal and financial investigation, my attorney will add you to the witness tampering indictment. Have a lovely morning.”
I ended the call and permanently blocked her number. Beside me, Alex smiled a grim, proud smile. “The flying monkeys are officially grounded.”
