Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Vale
The guests had long since vanished.
The moment the handcuffs came out and the federal warrants were mentioned, the country club set had scattered like cockroaches when the kitchen light is flipped on. Cars had screeched out of the driveway, kicking up gravel, desperate to avoid having their names listed as associates of Olivia Grant or the ruined Vales.
Only the immediate family remained, standing amid the wreckage of their afternoon.
Robert Vale sat in the wicker chair, staring at the floorboards with dead, hollow eyes. The man looked as though he had aged twenty years in twenty minutes. Helen was on her knees, desperately shoving silver photo frames and porcelain figurines into a cardboard box that one of the soldiers had silently dropped near her feet.
Marcus stood by the door, his chest heaving, his eyes darting frantically between Amelia and the armed sentries posted every ten yards.
"Amelia," Marcus whispered, his voice trembling violently. "Please. Please, don't do this. I made a mistake. A horrific mistake. Olivia manipulated me! She got inside my head! She told me you were holding me back, that you didn't love me! I was weak!"
Amelia watched him with the detached curiosity of a surgeon examining an excised tumor.
"You weren't weak, Marcus. You were greedy," she said, her voice completely even. "Weakness is stumbling under a heavy load. Greed is kicking the person carrying the load so you can walk faster. You didn't just betray me. You enjoyed it. You brought divorce papers to a woman who had just survived twenty hours of unmedicated labor and told her she was useless."
"I was stupid!" Marcus cried, tears streaming freely down his cheeks now, completely heedless of the neighbors watching from behind their curtains across the street. "I love you, Amelia! I love our children! Look at Noah... he looks just like me! You can't separate a son from his father!"
"He looks like an innocent child," Amelia countered. "And the greatest gift I will ever give him is ensuring he never grows up to be anything like you."
"Amelia, please!" Helen wailed, crawling toward her and trying to grasp the hem of Amelia's uniform trousers.
A Ranger stepped forward to intercept, but Amelia raised a single finger, stopping the soldier. She looked down at her mother-in-law.
"You remember last Christmas, Helen?" Amelia asked quietly.
Helen froze, sniffing uncontrollably. "What?"
"Last Christmas," Amelia repeated. "I spent twelve hours cooking the prime rib and setting the table. When the meal was served, you realized you didn't have enough seating for Olivia and her mother. You looked at me in front of twelve people and told me to take my plate and eat in the kitchen because 'the help shouldn't clutter the dining room.' Do you remember that?"
Helen swallowed hard, her face burning with shame. "I... I was joking, Amelia! It was just a joke!"
"I didn't laugh," Amelia said. "And neither did God. Your time is up."
Agent Miller walked out onto the porch, followed by two uniformed county deputies. "Time, Colonel."
Amelia nodded. "Lock it down."
"No! Wait!" Robert shouted, suddenly scrambling to his feet. "My medicines! My war medals from the reserves!"
"Your personal effects will be cataloged by an insured moving company and delivered to the local YMCA," Agent Miller said dispassionately, placing a heavy hand on Robert’s shoulder and steering him firmly down the stairs. "You can collect them there."
"The YMCA?!" Helen shrieked. "I can't stay at the YMCA! I’m a Vale!"
"Not at this address, ma'am," the deputy said, taking her arm.
One by one, the Vales were escorted down the stone steps they had walked up with such arrogance only an hour earlier. Marcus fought against the deputy’s grip, twisting his neck to look back at the grand house, at the sweeping lawn, at the life of leisure and prestige that was evaporating like mist under the morning sun.
"Amelia!" Marcus screamed as they reached the edge of the curb. "Amelia, I have nothing! I don't have anywhere to go! My firm’s accounts are frozen! I have nothing!"
Amelia stood at the top of the porch steps, framed by the white Victorian pillars. The wind caught the gold trim of her dress uniform cap.
May you like
"You have exactly what you gave me in that hospital room, Marcus," she called down, her voice cutting through his panic. "You have yourself. Let's see how much that's worth."
***
