Chapter 6 - The Mother-in-Law’s Gambit
The holding facility at the metropolitan detention center smelled of industrial bleach and damp concrete.
I sat on one side of a scratched acrylic partition, waiting with my hands resting quietly in my lap.
The door on the opposite side opened, and Evelyn Whitmore was led in by a female guard.
Her designer suit was wrinkled, her silver hair unwashed and held back by a cheap plastic comb.
She had spent the night in a county cell after attempting to assault the process server who delivered the eviction notice.
She sat down heavily on the metal stool, glaring through the glass with unmitigated hatred.
"Are you satisfied now, Elena?" she spat, picking up the heavy black receiver.
I lifted my phone to my ear, my expression completely neutral.
"I didn't forge your signature on the corporate guarantee, Evelyn."
"Graham did that all on his own."
Evelyn flinched, her grip tightening on the plastic receiver until her knuckles turned ivory.
"He is my son," she said, her voice trembling with venom.
"A mother protects her son."
"Even when he is robbing the foundation dedicated to his deceased sister?" I asked coldly.
Evelyn’s eyes widened, a sudden terror replacing her rage.
"You... you found that account?"
"The Kimberly Whitmore Memorial Fund was emptied eight months ago," I told her.
"Two million dollars transferred directly to a shell company used to purchase a yacht in Miami."
"The yacht was registered in Sloane Mercer’s name."
Evelyn closed her eyes, a dry sob escaping her throat.
"He swore to me he was investing it in pharmaceutical stock," she whispered.
"He told me we would double the endowment within the year."
"Graham has never invested in anything other than his own vanity, Evelyn."
"And you enabled him every step of the way because you enjoyed the social standing my money provided."
Evelyn opened her eyes, looking at me through the smudged acrylic partition.
The arrogance that had defined her entire life had evaporated into broken, desperate dust.
"What is going to happen to us?" she asked, her voice cracking like dry paper.
"The government will seize the penthouse on Fifth Avenue tomorrow morning," I informed her.
"The family home in the Hamptons will be auctioned to satisfy the outstanding liens from the contractor union."
"And what about me?" she cried.
"Where am I supposed to sleep?"
"You have a sister living in an assisted living community in Ohio," I said.
"I have purchased a one-way bus ticket and reserved a single-occupancy room for you under her name."
Evelyn pulled the receiver away from her ear, staring at me in complete disbelief.
"A bus ticket?" she screamed through the perforations in the glass.
"I am an executive board member of the Symphony Society!"
"You were," I corrected her calmly.
"Your resignation was accepted by the board president forty-five minutes ago."
"I replaced your chair with Mrs. Kensington."
Evelyn dropped her forehead against the cool plastic barrier, her shoulders heaving with silent, helpless weeping.
"Why are you being so cruel?" she sobbed into the receiver.
"I am not being cruel, Evelyn."
"I am simply showing you what your life looks like when you are forced to pay for it yourself."
I hung up the black telephone receiver and set it neatly back into its metal cradle.
I stood up and smoothed the pleats of my wool overcoat.
Behind the partition, the guard tapped Evelyn on the shoulder, signaling that her visitation period had concluded.
May you like
I walked through the reinforced security doors into the blinding daylight, leaving the Whitmore dynasty buried behind iron bars.
***
