Chapter 2 - The Sound of Ruin
The roasted chicken on Prudence’s tray slid to the floor, grease staining the hem of her expensive silk dress. But she didn't even look down. Her eyes were locked on mine, wide with a sudden, paralyzing terror.
"Leo..." my mother, Gertrude, stammered, her voice cracking as she leaned against the doorframe for support. The glass of expensive champagne in her hand trembled violently. "You're... you're home. Your contract wasn't supposed to end until next year."
I didn't answer her. I couldn't. If I opened my mouth to speak to them right now, the sheer, unadulterated rage consuming my soul would tear this room apart.
Instead, I bypassed them entirely, my heavy boots crunching over the shattered boxes of expensive chocolates I had brought as gifts. I dropped to my knees in front of the plastic stool where Sarah sat.
"Sarah," I choked out, my voice thick with a pain that felt like a physical blade in my throat.
She looked up at me, her eyes hollow, terrified, and filled with a deep, crushing shame. She didn't throw her arms around me. She didn't cry out in relief. She shrank back slightly, as if she couldn't bear for me to see her like this—broken, malnourished, and dressed in rags.
"Leo?" she whispered, her lips trembling. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I tried to take care of him. I tried."
"No, no, baby, look at me," I said, my hands shaking as I reached out to gently cup her face. Her cheekbones sharp, her skin sallow. The woman I loved had been systematically starved in the shadow of my own success. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm here. I'm home."
I looked down at Jamie. My six-year-old son was staring at me with wide, confused eyes, still clutching the chipped plate of rinsed rice. He didn't even remember me. He was only a baby when I left.
"Jamie," I said softly, tears finally burning my eyes. "I'm your daddy. Put the plate down, buddy. You don't have to eat that anymore. Daddy's going to get you real food."
Behind me, Gertrude finally found her voice, trying to weave the web of lies she had spun for five long years. "Leo, dearest, let me explain! It's not what it looks like. Sarah... Sarah has been very unstable. She insisted on staying back here. We tried to bring her inside, but she preferred—"
"Shut up," I said.
The room went dead silent. The music from the main mansion hummed through the walls, an insulting contrast to the filth we were standing in.
I stood up slowly, turning to face my mother and sister. The heat of Saudi Arabia had hardened my body, but the betrayal in this room had turned my heart to stone.
"Every month," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Eighteen hundred dollars. For sixty months. That's over a hundred thousand dollars, Gertrude. Plus the three hundred thousand I wired directly to you to finalize the deed and the construction of this house."
"Leo, the market fluctuated, inflation—" Prudence began, her voice high and panicked.
"I said, shut up," I barked, stepping toward her. Prudence flinched, taking a frantic step back into the main hallway. "I built this house for my wife and my son. I sacrificed five years of my life, breathing in toxic sand and burning my skin to the bone so they would never know a day of hardship. And you put them in the dirt."
I looked at the gold jewelry dripping from my sister's neck, the designer heels my mother wore, the expensive catering visible through the open doorway.
"You have exactly ten minutes to get every single one of your guests out of my house," I said, my voice ice-cold. "If there is a single soul left inside this mansion by the time I count to ten, I am calling the police, the sheriff, and every media outlet in this city to show them exactly how the 'distinguished' Gertrude and Prudence Langley treat a starving child."
Gertrude's face went from pale to completely white. "Leo, please! Our reputation! The neighbors!"
May you like
"One," I began, my eyes boring into hers.
Prudence didn't wait. She turned on her heels and ran toward the ballroom, screaming for the music to be turned off.
