She tried to force a loving maternal smile onto her pale lips. “My darling boy! You’re home! Why didn’t you call? We would have sent the driver! We were just sitting down to celebrate your London triumph!” “Save your breath, Cora,” I said, my voice vibrating with ice.
I didn’t call her mother. I had ceased viewing her as my mother the moment she ordered my pregnant wife to eat alone in a windowless storage closet. I walked straight past the frozen relatives, straight past Cleo whose eyes were wide with pure panic, and went directly to Vita.
I dropped to one knee before her chair, took her trembling, cold hands in mine, and pressed them against my lips. Tears spilled freely from Vita’s eyes as she leaned her forehead against mine. “I’m here, baby,” I whispered, kissing her knuckles.
“I’ve been here since yesterday morning. I saw the grocery store. I saw our bedroom. I heard every single word spoken outside the pantry door. It’s over. No one will ever hurt you or our baby again.” Vita buried her face in my shoulder, her body trembling with overwhelming relief.
Three weeks of terror melted away. I stood up and turned toward the table, fixing Cora and Cleo with a look of absolute, unsparing condemnation. “Marc, please let me explain,” Cora stammered, clutching her pearl necklace.
“Vita was being unreasonable! She was hiding financial documents! She refused to let Cleo use the car!” “Toto,” I commanded coldly, “read the audit report.” Toto Valli stepped forward, opening the certified binder. His professional voice cut through the room like a scalpel.
“On October 2nd, Mrs. Cora Valli and Miss Cleo Valli presented a fabricated Durable Power of Attorney to Southern Heritage Bank, falsely bearing the notarized signature of Marc Valli. Using this fraudulent instrument, they redirected forty-two thousand dollars of household maintenance funds into private personal accounts.”
“Furthermore, they unlawfully canceled Mrs. Vita Valli’s primary healthcare insurance policy while she was in her third trimester of pregnancy, and attempted to register a forged quitclaim deed on this residence.” Gasps of utter horror erupted from Uncle Rob and Aunt Beth.
