Chapter 8: The Mother-in-Law's Fall
If Julian was a coward, his mother was a cornered rat. And cornered rats always try to bite.
At 2:00 PM, I received a frantic phone call from the manager of my downtown flagship spa.
"Ms. Caldwell, I am so sorry to bother you," the manager whispered, sounding distressed. "But your mother-in-law is here. She’s causing a massive scene in the lobby. She’s demanding a complimentary deep-tissue massage and screaming at the receptionist."
I closed my laptop with a quiet snap. "Do not offer her any services. I will be there in ten minutes."
When I walked through the frosted glass doors of the spa, the serene, eucalyptus-scented sanctuary was chaotic. Beatrice was standing in the middle of the lobby, waving her hands and loudly berating a terrified nineteen-year-old receptionist.
"Do you know who I am?!" Beatrice shrieked, her voice echoing off the marble walls. "My son owns this entire franchise! I am practically your boss! You will give me the VIP suite immediately, or I will have you fired by the end of the day!"
Several wealthy clients in plush white robes were staring at her in absolute disgust.
"Beatrice," I called out, my voice cutting through the lobby like a whip.
Beatrice whipped around, her face flushed red with rage. "Harper! Thank God. Tell this incompetent girl to let me into the suite. My neck is in knots from the stress you caused me last night!"
I walked slowly across the lobby, ignoring her completely, and turned to the receptionist. "Are you alright, Sarah?"
"Yes, Ms. Caldwell," the girl stammered.
I turned back to Beatrice. "You missed your flight to Boston."
"I canceled it!" Beatrice spat, stepping closer to me, attempting to use her physical presence to intimidate me. "I am not leaving my son while his life is falling apart because of your vindictive, hysterical overreaction. You have ruined his reputation! You froze his credit cards! He tried to buy a coffee this morning and his card was declined. Declined, Harper! Do you know how humiliating that is for him?"
"I imagine it's slightly less humiliating than being caught in a bathtub with the hired help," I replied smoothly, crossing my arms.
A few of the clients in the lobby gasped, whispering among themselves. Beatrice realized she had an audience and immediately tried to pivot to playing the victim.
"You neglected him!" she cried out, forcing tears into her eyes. "You cared more about your money and your spas than you did about being a proper wife! He was lonely! Mia was sweet to him. She gave him the warmth you denied him!"
I didn't flinch. I let her finish her little performance, letting the silence stretch out until she began to look foolish.
"Beatrice," I said softly, stepping into her personal space. My voice was low, meant only for her. "Do you remember the condo in Boston? The one you live in?"
Beatrice blinked, her fake tears vanishing instantly. "What about it?"
"Julian pays the mortgage on that condo," I whispered. "Using his salary from Apex Marketing. A salary that, as of an hour ago, no longer exists. He was fired this morning."
Beatrice’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The color completely drained from her face, leaving her looking haggard and old.
"And do you remember the Lexus SUV you drive?" I continued, my tone dripping with icy politeness. "That is leased under Caldwell Wellness's corporate account. Because Julian convinced me it was a 'business expense' to keep his mother comfortable."
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and tapped a few buttons.
"I just canceled the lease," I said, looking her dead in the eye. "A repo company is currently on its way to the hotel parking lot to collect the vehicle."
Beatrice stumbled backward, clutching her chest as if she couldn't breathe. "You... you can't. Harper, please. I'm an old woman. I have a certain standard of living."
"A standard of living I paid for," I corrected her. "You sat in my house, drank my tea, wore the diamonds I bought you, and told your son to cheat on me because I wasn't 'submissive' enough for your liking. You bit the hand that fed you, Beatrice. And now, you are going to starve."
I turned back to the receptionist.
"Sarah, please call building security and have this woman escorted off the premises," I ordered loudly, ensuring the entire lobby could hear. "If she returns, call the police and press charges for trespassing."
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"Harper, wait! We can talk about this!" Beatrice begged, her arrogance entirely shattered, replaced by the desperate panic of a woman realizing she was about to lose everything.
I didn't look back. I simply walked into the private elevator, letting the steel doors slide shut on her frantic, screaming face.
