Chapter 5 - The Family Dinner
Sunday evening was traditionally dinner at my parents' house. It was a sprawling, wealthy estate in the suburbs. My parents prided themselves on appearances, family unity, and their country club reputation.
I hadn't spoken to them since the incident. Chloe, I knew, had moved back into their guest house after Julian’s funds were cut off.
I pulled my SUV into the circular driveway. I wasn't wearing scrubs today. I wore a tailored black dress, a sharp blazer, and red lipstick. I looked like a woman going to a funeral.
I walked through the front door without knocking.
In the formal dining room, my parents were sitting at the table. Chloe was sitting there, looking entirely miserable, dabbing her eyes with a napkin while my mother patted her hand.
"She’s just being so unreasonable, Mom," Chloe sobbed. "Julian and I just had a connection. We couldn't help it. She works all the time; she neglected him!"
"I'm sure she'll come to her senses, darling," my mother said soothingly. "Family is family. We'll talk to her."
"I'm right here," I said, stepping into the dining room.
All three of them froze. Chloe went pale.
"Evelyn!" my father said, standing up, clearing his throat. "We were just... we were hoping you'd come. We need to handle this quietly. Chloe has explained the situation."
"Has she?" I asked, walking to the head of the table. I dropped a thick manila folder onto the china plates. "Did she explain that she's been sleeping with my husband for eight months?"
"It was a mistake of passion!" my mother argued, defending her youngest, as always. "You have to be forgiving, Evelyn. You were never home."
"Did she explain," I continued, ignoring my mother, "that Julian used Maya’s college fund to pay for Chloe's rent, her car payments, and those hideous red boots she left in my foyer?"
My father’s face hardened. He was a businessman; financial theft was a cardinal sin. "Is this true, Chloe?"
Chloe shrank back. "I... I didn't know where the money came from!"
"And finally," I said, opening the folder. I pulled out a large, 8x10 glossy photograph and slammed it onto the table. It was the picture of Maya, shivering under the table. "Did she explain that while she was playing house in my bed, she yelled at my six-year-old daughter, shoved her, and left her to freeze on the floor because they turned the heat off?"
Silence fell over the room like a heavy shroud.
My mother stared at the photo of her granddaughter. Her hand began to tremble.
My father looked at the photo, then slowly turned his gaze to Chloe. The disappointment in his eyes was absolute.
"Get out," my father said to Chloe, his voice terrifyingly quiet.
"Daddy, please!" Chloe begged.
May you like
"Get your things out of my guest house by midnight," he commanded. He looked at me. "Whatever you need for the divorce, Evelyn. We will cover the legal fees. I am so sorry."
I didn't stay for dinner. I walked out, leaving Chloe sobbing hysterically in the wreckage of her own making.
