Chapter 28 - Echoes of despair from Lilac Street
Before meeting Chloe, Sarah stopped by her new design studio in the arts district to pick up a shipment of art paper samples. The spacious studio was filled with the smell of fresh paint and pine wood. She was bending down to check the thickness of each sheet of paper when the doorbell rang incessantly, followed by a violent banging on the door that shook the reinforced glass.
Sarah looked up. Standing outside the transparent glass were her mother, Helen, and her eldest aunt, Martha. Helen's face was flushed with anger, her usually impeccable makeup smudged with sweat, and her eyes were wide with horror and resentment—no different from the moment she had witnessed the events in the backyard that day. The only difference is that this time, she is the one being cornered.
"Open the door, Sarah! Open the door immediately!" Helen shouted, her voice piercing through the thick glass, attracting the attention of a few passersby on the sidewalk.
Sarah remained unfazed. She calmly walked to the control panel next to the counter, checked the security camera recording audio in the lobby, then pressed the remote unlock button and stepped back two paces.
The door burst open. Helen rushed in like a whirlwind, followed closely by Aunt Martha.
"What have you done?!" Helen pointed her trembling finger directly at Sarah's face, her voice cracking. "The bankers and tax officials just stormed Robert's office! They froze all my credit cards! They said the house on Lilac Street is at risk of foreclosure. Are you crazy? That's your own flesh and blood!"
"That's right, Sarah," Aunt Martha continued, her tone a mixture of threat and moralistic platitude, just like in previous family meetings. "A small misunderstanding about money, and you're going to drive the whole family to ruin? Call your lawyer immediately and withdraw the complaint before it's too late!"
Sarah stood tall, her arms slightly crossed in front of her chest. She looked directly into the eyes of her mother—the woman who had never once asked about the swelling on her cheek that day. Does it hurt? He never once stood up to protect her when Daniel and Uncle Robert turned her into a puppet.
"A misunderstanding?" Sarah's voice rang out, calm, clear, and sharp as a knife cutting through the noisy charade. "The siphoning off four hundred thousand dollars from Grandpa's trust over the past five years wasn't a misunderstanding, Aunt Martha. And forcing me to sign the papers relinquishing my ownership of the property in that dark room that day wasn't an act of familial love either."
"That money is for maintaining the reputation and the family business!" Helen yelled, trying to gloss over the issue. "You're just a freelance designer, what do you need that much money for when Daniel needs capital to expand his company?!"
Sarah let out a soft laugh—a laugh devoid of bitterness, but one of complete liberation.
"Listen to yourself, Mom," Sarah said slowly. "In everyone's eyes, my existence only has value when I'm willing to be a stepping stone for others to trample on. The day the lemonade shattered on the floor and the slap landed on my face in front of everyone, neither of them stepped forward to stop them. Everyone stood there, looking at me like a criminal. From the moment I drove away from the quiet road leading to the house that day... I no longer owe this family anything."
"You... you ungrateful child!" Helen instinctively raised her hand, intending to slap her.
But this time, Sarah didn't back down. She took a step forward, her icy gaze fixed on her mother's outstretched wrist.
"Try touching me again," Sarah whispered, but each word carried immense weight. "The high-resolution camera in the corner of the ceiling is streaming live data to lawyer Marcus's server. If that hand comes down, you won't have to worry about the house on Lilac Street being foreclosed. Because she'll have free accommodation in the detention center this afternoon."
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Helen's hand froze in mid-air, trembling. For the first time in her life, she saw in her daughter's eyes an impenetrable wall. Genuine fear began to creep into the eyes of the two elderly women.
"Get out of my workshop, both of you," Sarah said, pointing toward the door. "And never come back here again."
