“Do you also think that?” I asked. “Do you think your son deserves to be in a juvenile facility?”
Rob finally looked up. There was something in his eyes—shame, guilt. But he didn’t say anything. He simply lowered his gaze again.
“Rob has learned to trust me,” Chelsea said, placing her hand on my son’s arm with a possessive gesture. “He knows that I only seek the best for our family. And frankly, Ethan has been a problem since I came into your lives.”
“A problem?” I repeated. “He is a child.”
“He’s a manipulator,” Chelsea spat. “Like you. Trying to separate us with lies and melodrama.”
Gerald cleared his throat uncomfortably, as if Chelsea were saying more than she should, but she didn’t stop.
“Do you have any idea how many times that brat has tried to convince Rob that I’m a bad person? How many lies he has invented about me?” she demanded.
“Maybe they weren’t lies,” I said softly.
Chelsea’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you implying?” she asked.
“Nothing. Only that a child generally tells the truth when he is scared.”
Chelsea let out a dry laugh.
“Oh, Elellanena. Always so dramatic. Just like your grandson. I guess it runs in the family. But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Because you’re going to sign those papers. You’re going to stay in this apartment until nature takes its course, and Ethan will learn his lesson in a place where they teach real discipline.”
“Chelsea,” Gerald said in a low voice, like a warning.
But she was on a roll. I could see how the power had gone to her head.
“What?” she snapped at Gerald. “It’s the truth. This old woman is finished. Look at her. Sick, alone, defeated. She should have accepted this from the beginning. It would have saved me so much trouble.”
“Trouble?” I asked, feigning naivety.
“Yes. Trouble,” Chelsea replied, leaning back on the armchair like a queen on her throne. “Do you have any idea how much effort it cost me to make Rob forget about you? Every birthday he forgot, every call he didn’t answer, every visit he didn’t make. All planned. All perfectly executed.”
Rob looked at her, surprised.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“Oh, please, honey,” Chelsea said, giving him a look. “Don’t act surprised. You knew perfectly well that I managed your schedule, that I decided who you spent time with and who you didn’t.”
“I thought…” Rob hesitated. “I thought you were just helping me get better organized.”
“Oh, Rob. So naive.” Chelsea laughed. “I was keeping you away from this woman because she was a nuisance. And it worked, didn’t it? Now you can’t even stand her.”
I watched something break in my son’s eyes, like a veil falling.
Gerald quickly intervened, standing up.
“Chelsea, I think we should focus on the documents.”
“Sit down, Gerald,” Chelsea ordered without looking at him. “I’m talking.”
He obeyed, but I saw the nervousness on his face. He knew Chelsea was losing control.
“Do you know what the best part of all this is, Elellanena?” Chelsea continued. “That when you finally die—and believe me, with that heart of yours, it won’t be long—we’re going to sell this hovel for $4,500,000. I already have a buyer, an investor who wants to remodel the whole building.”
“$4,500,000,” I repeated.
“Mm-hmm,” she said. “And with that money, plus what I’ve already saved from my previous investments, Rob and I are going to move to Miami. We’re going to open a boutique hotel. I already have the land reserved.”
“And Ethan?” I asked.
“Ethan is going to a military boarding school in San Diego. Everything is already arranged. As soon as he turns eighteen, he’ll be someone else’s problem.”
“Chelsea, stop,” Rob said, standing up. “What are you talking about? We never discussed any of that.”
“Because you don’t have to discuss anything, honey,” Chelsea replied condescendingly. “I take care of everything. As always. As I took care of pushing this old woman away, of controlling your son, of planning our future.”
“You… took care of pushing my mother away?” Rob’s voice was trembling.
“Someone had to do it,” she said. “She was never going to let go of you. Mothers like her are toxic. They cling to their sons like leeches.”
I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I needed her to keep talking.
“And the candlestick,” I said softly. “Did you take care of that too?”
Chelsea looked at me and smiled.
“Ah, that. Yes, that was clever, wasn’t it?” she said. “The brat was late. I was already tired of his judgmental looks, his passive-aggressive comments. So when he came in, I gave him what he deserved. A good hit with the silver candlestick that my dear dead mother-in-law gave me. Ironic, right?”
Rob was pale.
