Chapter 3 - The Ghost at the Door
The teacup slipped from Lorraine Voss’s hand.
It crashed onto the hardwood floor, shattering into dozens of porcelain shards, splashing hot tea over her expensive leather shoes.
Sable screamed, stepping back against the mantelpiece as if she had just seen a phantom rise from a tomb.
The real estate agent spun around, her jaw dropping as she looked at me—standing in the doorway, supported by a nurse, wearing sweatpants, with a surgical heart pillow clutched against my chest and a phone recording every single frame.
"Marlo..." Lorraine gasped, blood draining completely from her face. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably. "What... what are you doing here?! You're supposed to be in the ICU!"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Lorraine," I said, my tone dangerously calm, every word laced with lethal precision. "Did my survival ruin your Cabo vacation plans?"
Sable stepped forward, her face flushing bright red with panic and anger. "You can't be here! You're sick! Corbin said the doctor said you had severe brain hypoxia during surgery!"
"Corbin lied to you," I replied, taking a step further into the foyer, ignoring the sharp pulse of pain behind my ribs. "Just like he lied to the bank. Just like he forged my name on the corporate wire transfers."
Lorraine quickly tried to pull her composure together, smoothing her silk blouse, though her eyes darted frantically toward the open door.
"Marlo, dear," Lorraine said, forcing a sickly sweet, trembling smile onto her face. "You're confused. You've had major anesthesia. You aren't thinking clearly."
"I am thinking with absolute clarity, Lorraine," I said. "I know about the $335,000 you stole from Ashgrove Design Studio. I know about Highline Capital. And I know you listed my father’s house without my consent."
"This house is under Corbin's name too!" Sable yelled defensively. "He's your husband! He has the legal right to manage family assets during a medical emergency!"
"He has no legal right to sell a property that was placed in a pre-marital irrevocable trust before I ever met him," I countered, looking Sable dead in the eye. "My father ensured this estate could never be touched by a spouse. The listing you put up today is fraudulent."
The real estate agent’s eyes widened in horror. She turned immediately to Lorraine. "Mrs. Voss! You told me you had the signed trust release documents from the owner!"
"She... she authorized it verbally!" Lorraine stuttered, her sweet facade completely disintegrating.
"I authorized nothing," I said, turning my camera directly onto the agent's badge. "If that listing is not removed from the MLS database within ten minutes, my attorney will include your brokerage in the federal fraud indictment we are filing tomorrow morning."
The agent didn't hesitate. She grabbed her tablet, packed her leather briefcase, and practically sprinted past me out the front door, leaving Lorraine and Sable standing amidst the shattered tea cup.
"You ungrateful little bitch," Lorraine hissed, dropping her mask entirely, her eyes burning with pure malice. "We took you in! Corbin gave you a family! You think you can talk to us like this after everything we've done for you?!"
"You didn't give me a family, Lorraine," I said, my voice rising with unshakeable strength. "You gave me a pack of parasites."
Right on cue, the heavy rumble of an engine echoed from the driveway.
Corbin’s silver sports car—a car bought with money from my company's Christmas bonus pool two years ago—pulled up behind Rosalind's sedan.
He stepped out holding a bag of takeout food, completely oblivious to what was happening inside.
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When he walked through the front door and saw me standing in the foyer, surrounded by movers, shattered porcelain, and his mother’s pale face, the food bag dropped from his hand.
"Marlo?" Corbin stammered, his eyes wide with absolute terror. "What... what are you doing out of the hospital?"
