Chapter 3
Z
The morning light crept through the blinds of my small apartment, casting long, geometric shadows across the living room floor. Kobe was already sitting at the kitchen table, meticulously eating a bowl of oatmeal. His knee was neatly bandaged with a colorful band-aid I’d placed on it the night before, but his usual morning chatter was noticeably absent.
"Mom?" he asked, looking up from his bowl.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Is Uncle Gage going to take away my school supplies too?"
I paused, holding a mug of coffee halfway to my lips. My heart twisted into a tight knot. "What makes you ask that, Kobe?"
He looked down, tracing the edge of his placemat with his index finger. "Last year, when you and Grandma fought about Thanksgiving, Uncle Gage came over and took back the bicycle he bought me for Christmas. He said if you couldn't be nice to family, I didn't deserve nice things."
I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, feeling a fresh wave of disgust wash over me. I had almost forgotten about that. Gage had literally walked into our apartment while I was at work, used his spare key—which I immediately revoked afterward—and wheeled Kobe’s brand-new bike out to his trunk, all because I had refused to pay for our family’s dinner tab at an expensive steakhouse.
I walked over, knelt beside his chair, and took his small hand in mine. "No one is taking anything from you ever again, Kobe. Not Uncle Gage, not Grandma, not anyone. Do you hear me?"
He looked into my eyes, searching for certainty. Slowly, he nodded. "Okay."
After dropping Kobe off at his elementary school, I drove straight to the animal clinic where I worked as a senior veterinary technician. The clinic was my sanctuary—a place where logic, care, and compassion actually mattered, unlike the toxic dynamic of the Embry family estate.
My boss, Dr. Arthur Vance, a kindly man in his late fifties with silver hair and sharp brown eyes, was already in his office when I walked in. He looked up from a stack of medical charts and immediately noticed the dark circles beneath my eyes.
"Maya," he said softly, setting his glasses down. "How was Kobe’s birthday? You look like you haven't slept in forty-eight hours."
I shut the door behind me and sank into the leather chair across from his desk. "It was a nightmare, Arthur. Gage had his daughter pull the fire alarm at the jump park to ruin the party."
Dr. Vance’s eyebrows shot up in genuine shock. "He did what?"
I explained the entire sequence of events—the boat loan demand, the calculated sabotage, Sailor’s confession, the video evidence, and my mother’s late-night visit to my apartment. By the time I finished, Dr. Vance was leaning forward, his hands clenched tightly on his desk.
"That man is a parasite," Arthur said coldly. "He's been riding your father's coattails and leeching off your mother for years. And now he's targeting your son?"
"I filed a report with the police last night," I said, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts. "And I gave Nestor Alvarez from the jump park permission to hand over the security footage to their insurance company. Gage is going to be hit with a massive civil claim and potentially criminal charges for reckless endangerment and false alarm reporting."
"Good," Arthur said firmly. "He deserves every bit of it. But Maya... you need to be careful. A cornered animal like Gage doesn't act rationally. He thinks he's untouchable."
"I know," I replied. "That's why I'm taking a personal day on Friday to consult with a family lawyer."
"Take as much time as you need," Arthur assured me. "And if you need an advance on your bonus to cover legal fees, just say the word."
"Thank you, Arthur. That means the world to me."
By noon, the fallout began.
I was in the middle of assisting with a routine canine dental cleaning when my phone, sitting on the steel prep counter, began buzzing incessantly. I glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number, but the area code was local.
I stepped away, stripped off my latex gloves, and answered. "Hello?"
"Is this Maya Embry?" a stern, professional male voice asked.
"Yes, it is."
"My name is Officer Raymond with the County Sheriff's Department. I'm calling regarding a incident report filed last night concerning a false alarm at the SkyHigh Trampoline Park."
My heart did a quick flutter. "Yes, Officer. I submitted the video evidence and the manager's report."
"We've reviewed the video footage, Ms. Embry," Officer Raymond explained. "The footage clearly shows an adult male encouraging a minor to engage the pull station. We've identified the male as Gage Embry. We went to his residence this morning to issue a citation for misdemeanor disruption of a commercial facility and filing a false emergency report, but..." He paused.
"But what?" I pressed.
"Mr. Embry became belligerent with my deputies. He claimed that you bribed his daughter to pull the alarm in order to frame him and drag his name through the mud for a personal financial dispute."
I let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "He said what?"
"He claims you paid his daughter fifty dollars to pull the handle while he was attempting to stop her. He has filed a counter-complaint against you for filing a false police report and child endangerment."
The sheer absurdity of Gage’s audacity took my breath away. He wasn't just defending himself; he was actively trying to destroy me, flipping the narrative completely upside down to make me look like an unhinged, vengeful sister willing to put children in danger.
"Officer," I said, my voice dripping with cold anger. "Did you actually watch the video? You can see him point at the alarm! You can see him pulling out his phone to record my son crying!"
"I've seen the footage, Ms. Embry," Officer Raymond replied calmly. "And personally, the video seems to contradict his version of events. However, because he filed a formal cross-complaint, this matter is now being escalated to the District Attorney's office for review. Both of you will likely receive summonses to appear in county court within the next thirty days."
"Fine," I said, gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white. "Let him try that story in front of a judge. I have the manager's written testimony and six adult witnesses from the parking lot who heard him mock my son."
"That will be very helpful," Raymond noted. "In the meantime, I strongly advise you to avoid any contact with your brother or mother until the court date."
"That won't be a problem," I said. "They are dead to me."
I hung up, my frame trembling with adrenaline. Gage had escalated this from a petty family feud into a full-blown legal assault. He was willing to risk a criminal record just to ensure I suffered.
Two hours later, as I was wrapping up my shift, my mother’s luxury SUV pulled into the parking lot of the clinic.
I watched through the glass windows as Elaine got out of the driver's seat. She wasn't alone. Walking beside her was standard-issue local high-society attorney Harold Vance—no relation to my boss Arthur—a man known for handling slimy land disputes and dirty divorces for the town's upper crust.
They were coming to intimidate me at my workplace.
I walked directly to the front lobby, standing behind the heavy wooden reception desk as the automatic doors slid open.
Elaine walked in with her chin held high, wearing her oversized designer sunglasses and a beige trench coat. Harold Vance followed closely behind, carrying a sleek leather briefcase.
"Maya," Elaine said, her voice icy and loud enough for the receptionist and two waiting clients to hear. "We need to talk. Right now."
"You need to leave, Mom," I said smoothly, keeping my voice level. "This is a private business, and you are trespassing."
"Don't you dare take that tone with me!" Elaine barked, stepping toward the desk. "You've gone completely out of your mind! Filing police reports against your own family? Making up ridiculous lies about Gage?"
Harold Vance stepped forward, clearing his throat loudly. "Ms. Embry, I am representing your brother and your mother. We are here to offer you a settlement before this situation ruins your financial future."
"Settlement?" I scoffed. "For what?"
"If you withdraw your police report and sign an affidavit stating that the incident at the jump park was a tragic misunderstanding caused by confused children," Vance said, opening his briefcase and pulling out a crisp set of legal papers, "your brother will agree to drop his counter-complaint. Furthermore, your mother will agree not to cut you out of her estate."
I looked at the papers, then looked at my mother’s cold, triumphant smile. She actually thought this would work. She thought threatening my inheritance—money I had never asked for and never wanted—would force me into submission.
Before I could answer, the door behind me swung open. Dr. Arthur Vance walked into the lobby, holding a heavy metal clipboard.
"Is there a problem here?" Arthur asked, his sharp gaze locking onto Harold Vance.
"Arthur?" Harold blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "What are you doing here?"
"I own this clinic, Harold," Arthur replied coolly. "And you are harassing my senior technician on private property."
"We are attempting to settle a delicate family matter, Dr. Vance," Harold sniffed defensively.
"No, you are attempting to intimidate an employee who has done nothing wrong," Arthur countered, stepping right next to me. "I've seen the video of what happened to Maya's son. It's appalling. And if you don't take your client and leave this building within ten seconds, I am calling the local police department to have both of you processed for criminal trespass."
Elaine’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. "You stay out of this, Arthur! This is family business!"
"Maya is my employee, Elaine," Arthur said, pointing toward the door. "Get out of my clinic. Now."
Harold Vance realized he had lost control of the situation. He grabbed Elaine's arm, pulling her back. "Come on, Elaine. We'll handle this through official court channels."
Elaine glared at me, her eyes filled with absolute venom. "You are no daughter of mine, Maya. You're going to lose everything over this."
May you like
"I've already gained my freedom, Mom," I said quietly as they turned around and walked out the door. "Don't come back."
As the glass doors slid shut behind them, I sank into the desk chair, my chest heaving. The lines had been drawn, and the war was no longer contained within our family. It was going to court.
