Chapter 3: The Cost of Treachery
The apartment erupted into chaos. Flashlights from their phones illuminated their panicked, angry faces.
"Ethan, have you lost your mind?!" Teresa shrieked, shivering as the chilly night air began to seep into the room. "It's freezing! Where is Emily? Why are you doing this to your own family?"
"You are not my family," I said, my voice eerily calm. "My family is upstairs in a hospital bed fighting to keep our son alive because of you. You have nine minutes."
"You can't kick us out!" Brittany yelled, holding her phone. "Wait... why isn't my data working? Ethan, did you turn off my service? I have an influencer collab tomorrow!"
"I cancelled the plan. And I froze the cards. You’re on your own, Brittany."
"What?!" Kayla gasped, checking her own phone. "My card declined for my morning coffee order! Ethan, you can't do this to us! We're your sisters!"
"You're parasites," I corrected her. "For three years, I've paid your rent, bought your cars, paid for your lifestyle while I worked twelve-hour shifts at a warehouse until my back bled. And how did you repay me? By abusing my pregnant wife. By treating her like a maid in her own home."
Teresa stepped up to me, trying to use her matriarchal authority. "I raised you, Ethan! You owe me everything! If you throw us out onto the street, I will tell everyone what kind of monster you are. I’ll call the police!"
"Call them," I challenged, stepping into her space. "The lease is in my name. The utility bills are in my name. This apartment belongs to me and Emily. And if you don't leave right now, I will file a police report for harassment, endangerment of a pregnant minor/adult, and theft of the property you've stolen from this house."
Seeing that her manipulation was no longer working, Teresa’s face twisted into something ugly. "You're choosing her? That broke, pathetic girl over your own blood? She’s using you, Ethan! She’s just a trap!"
That was the final straw. I grabbed Teresa’s suitcase, threw it out into the carpeted hallway of the apartment building, and did the same with my sisters' bags.
"Out," I ordered.
They screamed, cursed, and cried, but I forced them out into the hallway and slammed the heavy oak door in their faces. I locked the deadbolt, chained the door, and slumped against it, listening to them pound on the wood until the building security finally arrived and escorted them out.
The next morning, the drama didn't stop. True to her word, Teresa tried to ruin me. She posted a long, tearful video on Facebook, claiming that her "heartless son" had thrown his elderly, sick mother and helpless sisters into the freezing rain for no reason. Brittany shared it, tagging local news outlets. Within hours, my phone was blowing up with angry messages from extended relatives, aunts, and cousins calling me a disgrace.
I didn't reply to a single one. Instead, I went back to the hospital.
When I entered Emily’s room, she was sitting up, eating a light breakfast. The color had returned to her cheeks. She looked up at me, her eyes anxious. "Ethan... I saw Facebook. Your mom..."
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," I said, kissing her forehead. "Let them talk."
"But your reputation..."
"My reputation doesn't keep you safe. I do," I told her. But I wasn't going to let them control the narrative. I had an ace up my sleeve.
Two weeks prior, I had installed a small, hidden nanny-cam in the living room bookcase. I had bought it initially for peace of mind when the baby arrived, but it had been recording 24/7.
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I sat next to Emily, pulled up my laptop, and downloaded the footage from the last two months. What I saw made my stomach turn. It was worse than Emily had admitted. The footage showed Teresa screaming at Emily for not cooking breakfast fast enough. It showed Lily deliberately spilling soda on the carpet and ordering Emily to clean it up. It showed the exact moment from last night, where Emily fell in pain, and my sisters looked over, laughed, and went back to their phones.
"It's time the world sees the truth," I whispered.
