Chapter 3 - The Fractured Venue
While I spent the next two days trapped in a hospital bed attached to IV lines, the outer world of the Vance family began to split at its fault lines.
On Monday morning, three days after the disastrous wedding, Chloe returned to the hospital alone. She wasn't wearing her wedding dress anymore; she wore plain leggings, an oversized sweater, and carried a white paper bag from a local bakery. Her eyes were red-rimmed and hollowed out from exhaustion.
Daniel was out in the hallway speaking with the hospital social worker when Chloe slipped inside my room.
"Emily?" she asked softly, standing by the door as if she expected me to throw something at her.
"Come in, Chloe," I said quietly, adjusting my pillows. The pain medication was slowly being reduced, leaving me with a dull, constant throb across my stomach, but my head was clear.
Chloe walked over and set the paper bag on my tray table. "I brought those cranberry scones you like from the bakery downtown. I... I didn't know what else to do."
She sat down on the edge of the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"How is your husband?" I asked gently.
Chloe dropped her head into her hands. Her new husband, Mark, was a soft-spoken accountant who had always tried to stay out of Patricia’s line of fire. "Mark is furious, Emily. He’s... he’s disgusted with my mother. And he’s furious with me."
She looked up, tears spilling over her lashes. "When Mom left the reception on Friday night to come to the hospital, I tried to keep the party going. I tried to pretend nothing was wrong because Mom had conditioned me my whole life to think that appearances are all that matter. Mark looked at me during our second dance and said, 'Your sister-in-law is in surgery, your brother is crying in an ER, and your mother just left in a rage. Why are we still dancing?'"
I listened in silence. I had felt sorry for Chloe for years; Patricia had molded her into an extension of her own ego, treating her like a living doll to be dressed up, displayed, and controlled.
"Mark told me that if I don't stand up to Mom now, he’s filing for an annulment," Chloe whispered, her voice trembling violently. "He said he won't spend the rest of his life married to a woman who lets her mother abuse people."
"Chloe," I said, my voice steady despite my weakness. "Your mother walked into this room, looked at me in a hospital bed, and hit me over an open wound. She told Daniel I was a liar while my blood pressure was crashing. This isn't just about a ruined wedding."
"I know," Chloe sobbed, grabbing a tissue from the box on my table. "I went to the police station yesterday to try and see her. She wasn't remorseful at all, Emily. She was screaming through the glass at me! She told me that I was a failure for letting Daniel take your side, and she demanded that I use my wedding savings to pay her defense attorney!"
Just then, the door opened, and Daniel walked in. When he saw Chloe, his face hardened immediately.
"Chloe. I told you not to come here."
Chloe stood up quickly, clutching her bag. "Daniel, please. I'm not here to defend her. I swear to God I'm not!"
"Then why are you here?" Daniel demanded, walking over to stand beside my bed, his arm moving instinctively into a protective position in front of me. "Because Aunt Susan called me an hour ago saying that Mom is trying to get her bail money released today, and you’re the one holding the joint family account credentials!"
Chloe froze. Her face went completely white.
"I... Mom asked me to transfer ten thousand dollars from our shared trust account for her bail," Chloe admitted in a small, terrified voice.
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Daniel took two steps toward his sister, his eyes flashing with a dark, dangerous intensity I had never seen in him before.
"If you touch that money to bail out the woman who assaulted my wife," Daniel said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper, "you will never see me again for as long as you live. Choose right now, Chloe. Choose your mother’s toxicity, or choose your brother."
