Chapter 2 — The Son They Thought They Controlled
Evelyn stood up first.
"Ethan..."
She forced a laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"We were helping."
Ethan stared at the overflowing sink.
The trash bag.
The mop bucket.
Then at his wife's swollen ankles.
"Helping?"
His voice stayed calm.
"So my eight-month-pregnant wife cleans while three healthy adults drink wine?"
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"She volunteered."
Emily quickly whispered,
"I did."
Ethan turned to her.
"No."
"You endured it."
Silence.
Claire scoffed.
"Oh, come on."
"It's just dishes."
Ethan looked directly at her.
"Then why didn't you wash them?"
No answer.
His mother stepped closer.
"You don't speak to your family this way."
He nodded slowly.
"You're right."
Then his expression hardened.
"Family doesn't treat my wife like hired help."
Evelyn's face fell.
"Ethan..."
"I'm your mother."
"And she's the mother of my child."
He walked to the kitchen sink.
Picked up Emily's rubber gloves.
They were filled with water.
One finger was stained pink from blood.
He held them up.
"Who made her finish after she cut herself?"
Nobody answered.
Emily quietly said,
"I wanted everything to be ready before you got home."
Ethan looked at her with heartbreak.
"You should've been resting."
Instead...
She had been serving the very people who should have been taking care of her.
His phone rang.
He ignored it.
Then he looked at his mother.
"I said leave."
May you like
No one argued this time.
Because they had never seen him like this.
