Chapter 9 - The Mother’s True Face
Expelled from the apartment, Ethan drove straight to his mother’s upscale suburban home in Evanston, arriving like a broken man. Rebecca met him at the front door draped in a cashmere shawl, expecting to hear that the police had forced Emily to surrender and beg for forgiveness.
Instead, when Ethan collapsed onto her living room sofa and buried his face in his hands, sobbing raw, desperate tears, Rebecca’s expression shifted from righteous indignation to cold, blistering disgust.
"What do you mean the police wouldn't help you?!" Rebecca hissed, pacing back and forth across the Persian rug. "She’s a woman! You’re the man! You’re her husband! You should have intimidated them!"
"Mom, stop it!" Ethan snapped, lifting his head, his eyes bloodshot and wild. "You don't understand! The apartment was never mine! She bought it before we met! Her name is the only one on the deed!"
Rebecca stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth opened, but for once in her life, no words came out. The realization that her son had hitched his wagon to a woman who actually possessed independent wealth and property—rather than a dependent mouse he could control—hit her like a physical blow.
"An apartment?" Rebecca sneered, recovering her venom. "That little nobody owns a mid-rise condo and she thinks she’s a Rockefeller? We will sue her! We’ll tie her up in court for years until she’s bankrupt! My lawyer will chew her to pieces!"
"With what money, Mom?!" Ethan yelled, standing up and towering over her. "My corporate salary goes entirely toward my car lease, your country club dues, and dining out! I don't have savings! Emily paid all the household bills while I was busy funding your lifestyle!"
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Rebecca recoiled as if she had been slapped. "How dare you raise your voice at me? After everything I sacrificed for you—raising you alone, giving you the best education, introducing you to Marcus Vance so you could climb the corporate ladder—this is how you speak to your mother because some ungrateful tramp bruised your fragile ego?!"
The mother and son stared at each other across the room, the fragile illusion of their superior dynasty finally collapsing under the weight of their own mutual parasitism. They hadn't married Emily for love; they had married her for stability, and they had treated her like garbage because they fundamentally believed they were superior. Now, sitting in the ruins of their arrogance, they were about to discover what true power looked like.
