Chapter 5 - The Prodigal Monster Returns
The private viewing room at the St. Jude Funeral Home in Seattle was filled with the heavy, sweet scent of white lilies and burning beeswax candles.
I sat on the front bench, wearing a tailored black dress that Eleanor had bought for me two Christmases ago.
My posture was straight, my hands folded calmly over my lap, and my eyes were dry.
Arthur Campbell sat two rows behind me, reviewing a thick stack of legal briefs with the methodical calm of a chess grandmaster preparing for checkmate.
The heavy oak doors at the back of the chapel burst open with dramatic force.
Julian strode into the room, looking pale, disheveled, and thoroughly exhausted.
His expensive linen suit was wrinkled from the red-eye flight, his tie was slightly askew, and his eyes were wild with anxiety.
He looked like a man who had spent the last twelve hours watching his reality unravel at the seams.
He had been forced to pay his exorbitant hotel bill with Chloe’s maxed-out personal credit cards and what little cash he had in his travel bag.
When he saw me sitting alone near Eleanor’s closed bronze casket, his expression shifted instantly.
He wiped his brow, forced a look of tragic, gut-wrenching grief onto his features, and sprinted down the center aisle.
"Nora!" he cried out, his voice echoing theatrically off the vaulted ceilings.
"Oh God, Nora, my darling!"
He dropped to his knees before me, attempting to throw his arms around my waist and bury his face in my lap.
I did not move.
I did not lean into his embrace.
I did not flinch.
I placed two firm, cold hands against his shoulders and pushed him back with steady, unrelenting force.
Julian stumbled back onto the carpet, looking at me with genuine bewilderment.
"Nora... what are you doing?" he stammered, wiping a dry eye.
"My mother is gone."
"My heart is completely shattered."
"Why weren't you answering your phone?"
"I flew back from Chicago the second I heard the news!"
I looked down at him from the wooden bench, my gaze as cold and unforgiving as the Puget Sound in midwinter.
"Chicago?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm.
Julian blinked, his throat bobbing nervously.
"Yes! The logistics summit."
"I told you the signal was dead in the convention basement."
"I rushed to O'Hare as fast as I could."
"How could you turn off your phone during the worst tragedy of our lives?"
"You should have been keeping me informed every minute!"
"How was the surf in Wailea, Julian?" I asked softly.
The color drained from Julian’s face so fast that he looked like a corpse himself.
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
"How was the champagne?" I continued, tilting my head slightly.
"Did Chloe Bennett enjoy her lobster frittata while my mother’s body was being wheeled down to the hospital basement?"
Julian’s hands began to shake violently.
He glanced frantically toward the shadows of the chapel, suddenly realizing that Arthur Campbell was sitting right behind us, watching him with utter disgust.
"Nora... listen to me," Julian stammered, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper as he crawled back toward my knees.
"Whatever someone told you... it’s a lie."
"It was a misunderstanding."
"Chloe is an independent marketing consultant for Vance Capital."
"She had an emergency corporate presentation in Hawaii, and I had to fly out to salvage a multi-million-dollar deal."
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to stress you out while you were caring for Mom!"
"I did it for us!"
"For our family!"
I looked at the man I had loved, supported, and sacrificed for across nearly two decades.
I felt no anger.
I felt no heartbreak.
I felt only a deep, profound revulsion.
"Eleanor heard her voice, Julian," I said, every word hitting him like a physical blow.
"The call was on speakerphone."
"Mom heard Chloe laughing."
"She heard Chloe call me your old, pathetic wife."
"She heard Chloe say that her dying breaths were ruining your vacation mood."
Julian’s eyes dilated with pure horror.
"No..." he gasped, clutching his chest.
"No, no, no... Mom was unconscious... the doctors said she was comatose..."
"She was wide awake," Arthur Campbell’s gravelly voice cut through the air like a razor blade.
Arthur stood up, buttoning his coat, and walked slowly toward the kneeling man.
"Eleanor was lucid enough to understand exactly what kind of monster she brought into this world," Arthur said with cold disdain.
Julian scrambled to his feet, trying to regain his corporate arrogance, though his knees were visibly trembling.
"Stay out of this, Campbell!" Julian barked, his face turning an ugly shade of crimson.
"This is a private family matter between my wife and me!"
"You are just an employee of the Vance estate."
"And as the sole surviving heir of the Vance family, I am officially dismissing you from your duties as estate counsel."
"You are fired, Arthur."
"Hand over the keys to the Mercer Island estate and the financial records immediately."
Arthur let out a quiet, dry chuckle that sent a shiver straight down Julian’s spine.
"You cannot fire me, Julian," Arthur replied calmly.
"Because you do not employ me."
"And as for the estate..."
Arthur pulled an embossed legal notice from his leather briefcase and slapped it hard against Julian’s chest.
"The formal reading of Eleanor Vance’s Last Will and Testament will take place tomorrow morning at ten o'clock sharp in my office."
"Be there, Julian."
"If you fail to attend in person, you will forfeit every single legal claim to the Vance name forever."
Julian snatched the document, his hands shaking with uncontrollable fury.
"I’ll see you tomorrow, Campbell," Julian snarled, glaring at Arthur and then turning his venomous eyes toward me.
"And you, Nora... you’re coming home with me right now."
"We are going to pack your bags and talk about how we handle this PR nightmare."
I stood up slowly, smoothing the wrinkles of Eleanor’s black dress.
"The locks on the Mercer Island estate were changed at sunrise this morning, Julian," I said quietly.
"The security team has strict orders to arrest you for criminal trespassing if your vehicle approaches the gate."
"Find a hotel room."
May you like
"If you can find anyone willing to accept your maxed-out cards."
I turned my back on him and walked toward the casket to place a single white rose on Eleanor’s polished bronze lid, leaving my husband screaming curses into the empty chapel air.
