Chapter 2 – The Fifteen-Minute Countdown
Patricia stared at the laptop screen as though she had misunderstood what she was seeing.
"Mason..."
Her voice had lost its practiced confidence.
"You wouldn't actually cut off your own family."
Without looking up, Mason clicked one final button.
"I already did."
A soft notification chimed.
His attorney had confirmed receipt of every document.
The shared investment accounts were frozen.
His mother's access to company finances had been revoked.
The guesthouse deed she'd insisted remain in her name had already been transferred into a trust for Oliver.
Years of financial leverage disappeared in less than five minutes.
Brianna suddenly stood.
"This is insane!"
She stormed toward the kitchen island and reached for the laptop.
Mason calmly closed it before she could touch it.
"Don't."
Something in his voice made her stop.
Not because he sounded angry.
Because he sounded finished.
Oliver whimpered against his father's shoulder.
The tiny boy's fever had climbed even higher.
Lena reached toward him weakly.
"I'll take him..."
"You need to sit down."
Mason gently guided his wife into a chair.
Only then did he notice how badly her hands were shaking.
Her ankles were swollen beneath the hem of her maternity leggings.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes.
She hadn't simply been exhausted.
She'd been collapsing.
"When did you last eat?" he asked quietly.
Lena hesitated.
"I... don't remember."
The answer landed harder than any scream ever could.
Mason walked to the refrigerator.
Nearly empty.
A carton of milk.
Half a loaf of bread.
Some fruit beginning to spoil.
Meanwhile, expensive restaurant leftovers covered every inch of the dining table.
Enough food to feed six people.
None of it had been saved for Lena.
His jaw tightened.
Behind him Patricia spoke again.
"We were guests."
"You can't expect us to cook."
Mason slowly turned.
"You weren't guests."
"You told everyone you came here because my pregnant wife needed help."
Silence.
"You volunteered."
Patricia opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed.
Fifteen minutes had passed.
Mason picked up both suitcases standing beside the staircase.
Without force.
Without yelling.
He carried them to the front porch.
Then he opened the front door.
"It's time."
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For the first time in years...
His mother realized she no longer had control over her son.
