Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Queen
For three long seconds, the only sound in the guest bedroom was the frantic ticking of the decorative clock on the mantelpiece. The illusion of authority, the unearned sense of entitlement that Bernice had wielded like a scepter for three decades, shattered into irreparable pieces right before her eyes.
“You… you never told me she had money,” Bernice stammered, her voice shrinking into a pathetic, reedy whine. Her hands fluttered uselessly in front of her chest. “You let me believe you were the one supporting her! You let me think she was just a parasite living off your hard work!”
“Because Savannah didn’t care about bragging, and I respected her privacy,” Christopher fired back, his restraint finally fracturing as a low, rumbling growl tore through his throat. “She wanted you to feel welcome here. She endured three years of your cruelty, your endless insults, your psychological torment, and your physical abuse because she knew I loved you and she didn't want to break my heart.”
He stepped forward, grabbing the remaining clothes from the closet armful by armful and dumping them indiscriminately into the red suitcase until the lid could barely close.
“And you,” Christopher continued, his voice shaking with a fury so intense it made his entire body tremble, “you used her kindness as a weapon to torture her. You mistook her grace for weakness.”
“I’m your mother!” Bernice shrieked, abandoning all pretense of dignity as she lunged forward to grab the edge of the suitcase lid. Tears of pure, unadulterated self-pity streamed down her heavily powdered cheeks. “I raised you! I changed your diapers! I went without meals so you could go to college! If you throw me out on the street right now, I have nowhere to go! You owe me your entire life!”
“I owe my wife and my unborn child their lives,” Christopher interrupted, his voice cutting through her hysterics like a razor-sharp blade.
He grabbed the two halves of the suitcase zipper, pulled them together, and hauled the heavy red bag off the bed with a violent tug. He dragged it down the length of the marbled hallway, the plastic wheels clacking loudly against the floor, trailing behind him like the iron chains of a ghost.
Bernice scrambled after him, her slippers slapping against the floor, her hands grasping at his sleeves. “Christopher, please! Don't do this! You can't put me out! Think of the neighbors! Think of what family will say!”
Christopher didn't slow down. He reached the front door, unlocked the deadbolt, and pulled the heavy mahogany portal wide open. With a powerful heave, he launched the red suitcase out into the public corridor of the high-rise, where it skidded across the polished tile floor before slamming hard against the opposite wall with a heavy thud.
Bernice stumbled out into the hallway after it, staring at her luggage in absolute disbelief as if she had just been cast out of Eden.
“You can’t do this!” she screamed, her voice echoing down the silent corridor of the thirty-second floor. “You’ll regret this, Christopher! You’re throwing away your own flesh and blood for a stranger!”
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“You are no longer welcome in our lives,” Christopher said coldly, his hand resting firmly on the edge of the open door. “If you ever attempt to contact either of us again, I won't just lock the door. I will make sure the law finishes what I started today.”
With that, Christopher slammed the heavy door shut in her face, turning the deadbolt with a sharp, final click.
