Chapter 10 - The Threshold
The wind rustled through the dying hydrangeas along the walkway. Victoria took one step up the porch stairs, attempting to re-establish her authority through proximity.
"I am your mother," she hissed, her aristocratic composure slipping into raw spite. "You owe me your life. You think you can hide out here in this pathetic little shack and play house? You will crawl back when the money runs thin. You don't know how to survive without our name."
Amy stepped forward, interposing herself gently between Mark and his mother. The fear that had paralyzed her on the night of the dinner party was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, immovable clarity.
"We survived you," Amy said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it echoed clearly in the crisp afternoon air. "That was the hard part. The rest of this is easy."
Victoria stared at Amy, her mouth parting in disbelief. She was accustomed to Amy shrinking, crying, or apologizing. Faced with steady, unyielding calm, Victoria had no weapons left to deploy.
"You will never see a cent of your inheritance, Mark," Victoria spat, turning back toward the car. "Not one cent."
May you like
"Keep it," Mark called out as she reached the gate. "Use it to buy better plates."
The car door slammed shut. The town car accelerated down the gravel drive, leaving only a lingering cloud of dust that settled quietly into the coastal grass.
