Chapter 4 - Bloodlines and Stolen Years
Z
“I knew you’d be here!” Chloe screamed, storming up the sidewalk with her phone clutched in her hand. Her hair was disheveled, completely devoid of the immaculate polish she usually maintained. “You canceled the caterer! You canceled our venue in Lincoln Park! My mother had to call two hundred guests this morning to tell them the wedding is on hold!”
“The wedding is not on hold, Chloe,” I said, stepping between the porch steps and the sidewalk. “The wedding is dead. Just like every single lie you built our relationship on.”
Beatrice marched forward, her designer heels clicking sharply on the uneven pavement. “Ethan, you are making the biggest mistake of your life. Do you have any idea the kind of embarrassment you are causing our family? Chloe has been by your side for three years! She supported your career in Vancouver, she hosted your corporate partners, she made you into the executive you are today!”
“She stole fifteen thousand dollars from my mother and forged a medical record to destroy my first marriage!” I snapped back, my patience completely disintegrating. “And you helped her cover it up!”
“We did what was necessary to protect you from an opportunist!” Beatrice shrieked, pointing a manicured finger directly at Samantha. “Look at her! Living in the slums, working menial labor, and the second you return to Chicago, she springs two illegitimate children on you to extort your wealth!”
The screen door behind me flew open with a violent crack.
Mrs. Garcia, Samantha’s mother, walked onto the porch. Her silver hair was pulled back tightly, and her dark eyes were blazing with the protective fury of a matriarch. Behind her, Aunt Patricia stepped out onto the porch as well.
I turned in surprise. “Aunt Patricia?”
“I drove over an hour ago, Ethan,” Aunt Patricia said calmly, looking down at Beatrice from the porch railing. “Because unlike your mother, I actually have a conscience. And I wanted to meet my grand-niece and grand-nephew in person.”
Beatrice recoiled slightly, her face twisting in shock. “Patricia? What are you doing in this neighborhood? Eleanor would be horrified!”
“Eleanor is currently at home having a full nervous breakdown because she finally realizes what kind of monsters she allied herself with,” Aunt Patricia replied scathingly. “I brought Samantha’s original medical files from five years ago. And I brought something else.”
Aunt Patricia reached into her handbag and pulled out an audio recording device.
Chloe’s eyes widened in sheer terror.
“What is that?” Chloe whispered.
“This is a digital backup of the voicemail you left on Eleanor’s landline five years ago, Chloe,” Aunt Patricia said, pressing play on the small speaker.
A crackle of static filled the quiet suburban street, followed by Chloe’s distinct, breathless voice from half a decade ago:
“Eleanor, it’s done. I met Samantha at the house. She was hysterical, but I gave her the envelope and made sure she understood Ethan never wants to hear from her again. I also dropped off the translated clinic report from my friend in records. Ethan will see clearly now that she can never give him an heir. He’s all yours again, Eleanor. And soon, he’ll be mine.”
The recording clicked off.
The street fell dead silent. A neighbor across the road stopped watering his lawn, staring at the confrontation unfolding on the Garcia front porch.
Chloe’s face drained of every drop of color. She looked as though she had been struck by physical lightning.
“You recorded my calls?” Chloe choked out, looking at Aunt Patricia.
“Eleanor’s home security system records all incoming landline voicemails automatically,” Aunt Patricia said coolly. “Eleanor forgot about it. But I didn't. I archived every single message the week you moved Ethan to Canada.”
I turned to look at Chloe, feeling nothing but a profound, chilling emptiness. The woman I had lived with for three years, the woman I had planned to spend the rest of my life with, was nothing more than a calculated predator who had orchestrated the destruction of my family from day one.
“It’s over, Chloe,” I said quietly. “There is nothing left to discuss.”
“No, it’s not over!” Beatrice spat, her voice trembling with venomous rage. “Those children could belong to anyone! Samantha was desperate, broke, and sleeping around after the divorce! You don’t even know if those brats carry a single drop of Vance blood!”
SMACK.
The sound of Samantha’s hand striking Beatrice’s cheek rang out like a gunshot across the quiet street.
Beatrice stumbled backward, her hand flying to her stinging, reddened face, her eyes wide with utter disbelief.
“Do not ever speak about my children again,” Samantha said, her voice deadly, ice-cold, and perfectly steady. “You took five years of their father away from them. You took my dignity. You took my marriage. But you will not insult my babies on my doorstep.”
“You assaulted me!” Beatrice shrieked, clutching her face. “I’m calling the police! I will have you arrested and thrown in prison!”
“Go ahead and call them, Beatrice,” a deep voice interrupted.
A black sedan pulled up behind Beatrice’s Mercedes. Marcus Hayes stepped out of the vehicle, carrying a thick leather briefcase and wearing a dark charcoal suit. He adjusted his glasses as he walked toward the group.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Marcus said smoothly. “My name is Marcus Hayes, senior partner at Hayes & Caldwell Law. I represent Mr. Ethan Vance, and as of twenty minutes ago, I also represent Ms. Samantha Garcia.”
Beatrice glared at him. “This woman just assaulted me in broad daylight!”
“And you are currently trespassing on private property while actively engaging in harassment, extortion, and interstate fraud,” Marcus replied without missing a beat. “Furthermore, Mrs. Whitmore, I have already filed an emergency petition with the Cook County Circuit Court for an immediate DNA paternity test to establish legal paternity for Noah and Lily Vance, alongside a criminal referral to the State’s Attorney regarding the fifteen-thousand-dollar embezzlement and medical forgery.”
Marcus pulled a set of legal notices from his briefcase and extended them toward Chloe and Beatrice.
“Consider yourselves officially served,” Marcus said. “If either of you contacts Mr. Vance or Ms. Garcia again, we will file an emergency order of protection and seek immediate pretrial detention. I suggest you get yourselves a very good criminal defense attorney.”
Chloe began to sob uncontrollably, dropping to her knees on the sidewalk. “Ethan… please… don’t do this to me…”
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I didn’t look down at her. I turned my back on both of them and walked up the porch steps, standing beside Samantha and Aunt Patricia.
Beatrice grabbed her sobbing daughter by the coat, dragged her back into the Mercedes, and slammed the doors. The luxury sedan screeched away from the curb, leaving behind a cloud of exhaust and the shattered remnants of their five-year conspiracy.
