Chapter 9 - The Final ConversationThe supervised phone call took place the following afternoon in Marcus’s office on speakerphone.
The line clicked, and after a burst of static, Marlo’s voice filtered through the speaker. She didn't sound confident, sharp, or triumphant. She sounded small, desperate, and thoroughly broken.
“Molly?” she whispered.
“I’m here, Marlo,” I said, my voice completely level. “Marcus is listening. Make it quick; I have dinner to make.”
“Molly, please...” Her voice cracked, a pathetic tremor echoing through the receiver. “You’re really going to ruin me? You’re going to let them put a garnishment on my wages and take away my home over a family dispute? We’re sisters.”
“No, Marlo,” I corrected her coldly. “We were related by blood. You stopped being a sister the day you decided my daughter’s existence was a punchline to humiliate me.”
“I was joking!” she sobbed defensively, the old reflex flaring up even at the end. “It was just a joke about the red hair! Why couldn't you just laugh it off like everyone else?”
“Because it wasn't a joke to you, and it wasn't a joke to my husband,” I said, every word dropping like lead. “You didn't care about the hair. You cared about control. You couldn't stand the fact that my life was stable, happy, and safe while your own life was a disaster of your own making, so you tried to burn mine down to keep warm.”
There was a long, agonizing silence on the other end of the line.
Only the heavy sound of her ragged breathing filled the office.
“You ruined my life,” she whispered venomously.
“No, Marlo,” I replied softly. “I just stopped helping you hide the wreckage.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
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Marcus reached over and picked up the receiver, hanging up the phone. He slid a fresh pen across the table toward me.
“Well,” the attorney smiled professionally. “Her lawyer just texted. She signed the paperwork.”
