Chapter 3 - Dawn of Defense
The morning sun cast pale amber light across my bedroom floor. I hadn’t slept a wink. My mind had been racing, calculating every legal and financial move required to dismantle Brandon’s carefully constructed house of cards.
Downstairs, I found my mother in the kitchen, quietly preparing breakfast. She had tied a silk scarf neatly around her head, attempting to cover the jagged gaps left by Brianna’s scissors. When she saw me, she offered a fragile, brave smile.
“Good morning, my love. How are you holding up?”
“I’m stronger than they think, Mom,” I said, stepping forward to embrace her tightly. “And you’re going to be okay, too. We both are.”
Before Mom could ask what I meant, the doorbell rang. It wasn’t a polite chime; it was a furious, pounding barrage of blows.
I walked to the front door and peered through the peephole. Brandon stood on the porch, flanked not by his parents, but by a slick-looking corporate attorney he must have retained in a panic. Behind them sat Brianna, sporting a bandage over her shorn hair and looking ready for war.
I unlocked the deadbolt, pulled the door open just enough to block their entry, and stood tall in the doorway.
Brandon’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Naomi. Open the door right now. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal you caused yesterday? My business partners are calling me, my parents are humiliated, and Brianna is pressing charges for assault and battery.”
I crossed my arms, looking past him to the lawyer. “And who is this? Did you bring legal representation to pick up your laundry, Brandon?”
The attorney stepped forward, pushing his glasses up his nose with an air of condescending authority. “Miss Vance, I am Marcus Vance—no relation to Brandon, though I represent his corporate interests. We are here to settle this amicably. You will sign a non-disclosure agreement, issue a public apology to Miss Miller regarding yesterday’s assault, return all wedding gifts, and release Brandon from any financial claims. In exchange, Mr. Sterling agrees not to pursue criminal charges for the destruction of Miss Miller’s property.”
I let out a sharp, cold laugh that startled even the lawyer.
“Criminal charges?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “For cutting off a ponytail after your client physically assaulted my mother and your thug friend Waylon shoved her against a wall? Let’s call the police right now and see how the San Jose Police Department feels about reviewing the venue’s security cameras.”
Brandon’s smug expression flickered into unease. “Naomi, stop being dramatic. Just sign the paper. We’re done. You don’t get a dime, you don’t get the house, and—”
“You’re right, Brandon. We are done,” I interrupted, my voice cutting through his bravado like a razor. “In fact, we were done the moment you and your little girlfriend conspired to mutilate my mother’s hair. But as for money, property, and assets... I think your lawyer friend here is going to find my terms far more interesting.”
I pulled the encrypted flash drive from my pocket, held it up between two fingers, and dropped it into Brandon’s shirt pocket.
May you like
“Review the files on that drive before you talk to me about settlements, Marcus,” I said, looking directly at the attorney. “See you in court, Brandon.”
With that, I slammed the door in their faces, sliding the deadbolt home with a satisfying click.
