Chapter 42
Elise's POV
The four of us sat around the dining table that wasn't quite large enough for the tension it now held.
Benjamin had come home early today—a man in his early fifties with a thickening waistline, thinning hair, wearing a polo shirt washed so many times the color had faded to something pale and lifeless. He kept his eyes on the evening news throughout dinner, occasionally spearing food with his fork and shoving it into his mouth, his chewing sounds loud and deliberate.
Margaret sat across from me, her gaze flicking toward me in sidelong glances every few moments.
Anna sat beside her, eating while scrolling through her phone, letting out occasional ambiguous laughs.
I said nothing.
But this quiet didn't last even five minutes.
"So," Anna set down her fork and crossed her arms over her chest, "you still haven't told us. What really happened with you and Liam?"
"None of your business."
"None of my business? You're living in this house spending money my parents pay for—"
"Anna." Margaret raised her hand to stop her, but the movement was slow, as if deliberately giving her enough time to make her point first, then turned to me.
"Your aunt is just concerned about you. Did you and Liam... have some kind of disagreement?"
I set down my fork.
"We're done."
Three words. The table went silent for two seconds.
Anna laughed—the kind of laugh that was pure, undisguised schadenfreude, the laugh of someone who'd finally gotten the show they'd been waiting for.
"Done? Ha! I knew it! I knew this day would come sooner or later! Who did you think you were—"
"Enough." Margaret interrupted her again. Then she turned to me, the concern on her face deepening a few degrees—or rather, the mask had been replaced with a new layer. "Elise, be honest with your aunt—did Liam dump you, or did you want to break up?"
"I was the one who ended it."
Margaret's eyes flickered for a moment.
"Well, that's good then." Her tone changed. No longer the concerned aunt, but someone closer to settling accounts. "You should start thinking about your future anyway. After all, you're an adult college student now, you can't keep going on like before—"
A pause.
"—freeloading off this family."
My fork stopped in midair.
"Aunt Margaret, are you sure you want to settle this account with me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean—" I looked directly at her, "this house, and your daily expenses, everything you spend money on, it's all from what my parents left behind."
Margaret's expression changed for an instant.
"The inheritance my parents left should have gone to me. You've been holding it in your hands under the name of 'managing it on my behalf.' The money I've been giving to this household over the years, it's not me 'paying living expenses'—that's my own money. And every single dollar you've spent has been taken out of what should rightfully be my pocket."
Silence. A long, drawn-out silence.
Anna's smile froze on her face. Benjamin finally shifted his gaze from the television news to look over with a frown, but said nothing.
Margaret's eyes narrowed little by little, like a snake preparing to strike.
Then she tore off the last layer of pretense.
"Ungrateful wretch."
Two words squeezed out from between her teeth.
"You ungrateful little wretch!"
She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. Looming over me, her finger trembling as she pointed it at my nose.
"Who do you think you are? Huh? Your parents have been dead for so many years, and you're still playing the spoiled rich girl? When your parents had their accident, who took you in? Who gave you food to eat, clothes to wear, sent you to school? Us! Your aunt and uncle! All these years of raising you, it was entirely out of respect for your dead parents! And you? Not only are you ungrateful, now you want to turn around and bite us?"
Her voice grew louder and louder, spittle flying.
"What right do you have to demand money from us? Huh? You, someone who was being kept by a man—"
"Enough."
I stood up.
The chair made a harsh sound scraping against the floor. Anna stopped chewing. Benjamin finally moved his gaze from the television.
I looked at Margaret. Her chest was heaving violently, her face flushed red, that finger pointing at me still trembling.
"You say you've been raising me." I said, each word bitten out clearly. "Then let's calculate exactly who's been raising whom."
Margaret froze for a moment—probably because I had stood up. Probably because my tone wasn't what she'd expected.
"What does Uncle Benjamin do at the law firm? Driver. Right?" I said. "Every day picking up and dropping off the boss, occasionally running errands to buy coffee. And you, Aunt Margaret? Cleaning staff. Cleaning offices, taking out trash, washing teacups. How much do your salaries add up to in a month?"
Margaret's lips moved.
She didn't get a chance to speak.
"And how much of the inheritance my parents left me has flowed into this household over these five years? The money I've been giving to the household every month, the portions from Liam's 'living expenses' that I transferred to you, and the money moved out of the trust account under the guise of 'management'—" I glanced at what she was wearing, the silk blouse, pearl necklace, the gold bracelet on her hand, "just the outfit you're wearing right now would cost—I won't say a year, but at least a month of your combined salaries!"
I let out a laugh.
Not a happy laugh. A cold one.
"So you tell me, Aunt Margaret—who's really freeloading here, me or you two living off what my parents left behind?"
Margaret's face went from red to a sickly pale.
Her mouth opened and closed, like a fish thrown onto shore.
Then she moved.
Not to speak.
To strike.
When the slap landed on my face, I didn't even feel pain at first. I only heard a crisp sound—so crisp that the entire dining table fell silent.
The left side of my face began burning hot.
I instinctively raised my hand to strike back—
"Elise!"
Benjamin's voice came from the side. Not loud, but carrying an unquestionable authority. The same authority he'd used countless times in this house.
"Margaret!"
He called out again. This time to Margaret.
But his eyes were on me.
"Enough! Everyone calm down!" He walked to Margaret's side, placing one hand on her shoulder. The pressure wasn't great, but she immediately fell silent—just like every time before.
Then he turned to me.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
"Elise."
His voice was soft. Very calm. Like coaxing a child throwing a tantrum.
"Your aunt said some harsh things, but she's not wrong. We've treated you well all these years. Now you're grown up with your own ideas—that's good. But," his hand reached out and landed on my shoulder, his five fingers slowly tightening, "you need to understand one thing. As long as you're living in this house, you follow the rules here."
His palm slid from my shoulder to the back of my neck.
Benjamin's hand was warm, damp, carrying a sticky possessiveness, like a reptile.
"Be good," he lowered his voice, low enough that only I could hear, "be obedient. Like before. Okay?"