Chapter 7 - The Beggar at the Gates
Three weeks passed. My physical recovery was swift, fueled by the joy of having Leo and Aria home. The Davenport Estate, a sprawling, secure compound an hour outside the city, was now our fortress. The babies were thriving, surrounded by round-the-clock pediatric care and an army of loving staff.
I was sitting in the sunroom, nursing Aria, when Victor approached, an earpiece resting securely in his ear.
"Ms. Davenport," he said softly, not wanting to startle the baby. "We have an issue at the main gate. It’s Eleanor Blackwood. She’s demanding to see you. Security is ready to have local police remove her."
I looked out the massive bay windows. It was raining again, a cold, miserable drizzle.
I gently handed Aria to her private nurse. I stood up, smoothing the front of my cashmere sweater.
"No, Victor," I said. "Bring the golf cart. I’ll go down and speak with her."
Victor looked hesitant but nodded. "I will be right beside you."
We drove down the long, winding driveway toward the massive wrought-iron gates. Standing on the other side, soaked to the bone, was Eleanor.
She was unrecognizable. The immaculate twinsets and designer bags were gone. She wore a cheap, ill-fitting trench coat, her hair plastered to her skull. The arrogance that usually radiated from her had been completely hollowed out.
When she saw the cart pull up, she gripped the iron bars.
"Evelyn! Evelyn, please!" she cried, her voice cracking.
I stepped out of the cart, standing under the massive black umbrella Victor held over my head. I looked at her through the iron bars.
"What do you want, Eleanor?" I asked coldly.
"I have nothing," she sobbed, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. "The bank took the house. My friends at the club won't even return my calls. They froze Lila’s college fund because Garrett used it as collateral for his debts. Please, Evelyn. You have so much. Just... just give us enough to get a small apartment. Help me."
I stared at the woman who had made my life a living hell. I remembered the heavy drapes of the mansion. I remembered her gold watch ticking while I bled on her floor. I remembered her prioritizing a country club auction over the lives of her grandchildren.
"Help you?" I repeated, my voice terrifyingly calm. "The way you helped me when I was begging on your floor?"
Eleanor flinched as if she had been struck. "I... I made a mistake. I didn't know how serious it was! You have to forgive me, for the babies' sake. I am their grandmother!"
"You lost the right to that title the moment you laughed as that door locked," I said, stepping closer to the gate. "My children have a grandfather who adores them. They have a mother who will burn the world down to keep them safe. They do not need a parasite who only understands the language of money."
"Evelyn, please, I have nowhere to go!" she wailed, sinking to her knees in the mud outside the gate.
"I suggest you go to The Galleria," I said, quoting her exact words from that horrific morning. "I hear they are having a wonderful designer sale. Perhaps you can find a winter coat."
I turned my back on her and walked to the cart.
May you like
"Drive, Victor," I commanded.
As we rolled back up the beautiful, manicured driveway toward my children, Eleanor’s pathetic wails faded into the sound of the rain, until they were gone entirely.
