CHAPTER 3: THE DESPERATE RETALIATION
Three days passed. My burn wounds were healing under strict medical supervision, though the doctor warned me that the scar on my upper chest might require cosmetic laser therapy later down the line. Every throb of pain was a reminder of why I could not afford to show an ounce of mercy.
I had changed the locks on our marital home, installed a state-of-the-art 4K security camera system around the perimeter, and hired a private security guard to monitor the property. Brandon’s legal team had already attempted to reach out to Victoria, desperate for a settlement. They offered a quick, quiet divorce if I agreed to drop the criminal charges and sign a non-disclosure agreement.
Victoria’s response was a single-line email: “Our client will see Mr. Mitchell in criminal court, civil court, and divorce court. There will be no negotiations.”
Cornered animals always snap. And Brandon was as cornered as they came.
It was a Tuesday evening when my security system alerted my phone. A car had pulled up to the curb outside my house. I looked at the live camera feed on my screen.
It was Brandon’s old beat-up college sedan—the one he kept parked at his mother’s house. Brandon got out of the driver’s seat, followed closely by Evelyn and Tiffany. All three of them looked disheveled, frantic, and wild-eyed. Brandon looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was greasy, his designer shirt was wrinkled, and the posture of the arrogant prince had been completely broken.
They walked up the driveway together. Brandon approached the front door and knocked heavily.
“Chloe!” he yelled through the heavy oak door. “Open the door! We need to talk like adults!”
I activated the front door intercom system from my phone inside the master bedroom. “Brandon, you are violating the conditions of your bail and the emergency protective order. Leave immediately or the police will be dispatched.”
“To hell with the protective order!” Evelyn screamed at the door camera, her voice shrill and unhinged. “Look at what you’ve done to my family, you vicious little psychopath! Brandon lost his job! Tiffany is getting evicted next week! I had to put a lien on my house to get him out of jail! You are destroying us!”
“You destroyed yourselves,” I answered through the speaker. “You raised a son who thinks domestic violence is an acceptable reaction to being told ‘no,’ and a daughter who thinks the world owes her a free ride. I just stopped paying for your delusions.”
“Chloe, please!” Brandon’s voice turned pathetic, desperate, laced with forced tears. “Baby, please open the door. I was stressed! Work was crazy, Tiffany was pressing me for money, and I just snapped! You know that’s not who I am! I love you! Six years, Chloe! You’re going to throw away six years over one mistake?!”
“A mistake is forgetting to buy milk, Brandon,” I said coldly. “Throwing boiling liquid at my head because I refused to fund your sister’s lifestyle is a violent crime. You told me to obey you or leave. I chose to leave. Now you get to live with the consequences.”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?!” Tiffany screamed, lunging toward the video doorbell, her face distorted with fury. “You think you won?! You’re just a cold, dried-up accountant! Nobody loves you! Brandon never loved you! He used you for your money! He told us every day how boring you were, how he had to fake it just to keep you paying the bills!”
Inside the bedroom, I felt a slight sting at her words, but it was immediately replaced by a surge of icy satisfaction. She had just handed me another weapon.
“Thank you, Tiffany,” I said calmly over the speaker. “The security cameras record high-definition audio and video. You’ve just provided my attorney with incredible evidence of premeditated financial exploitation for our civil fraud suit.”
Tiffany froze. Her eyes widened as she looked at the glowing red light of the security camera.
“Wait—what?” she stammered.
“Brandon,” I continued, targeting him directly. “Your civil suit trial is set for next month. Victoria is seeking $500,000 in damages for medical expenses, pain and suffering, emotional distress, and financial conversion. Since you no longer have a job or savings, the court will place a lien on any future earnings, assets, and even your inheritance.”
Brandon turned pale. He grabbed his mother’s arm as if he were about to faint. “Chloe… you can’t do this… I’ll be ruined for life…”
“You should have thought about that before you grabbed the coffee pot,” I said. “You have thirty seconds to clear off my property before the armed security team I hired arrives.”
As if on cue, a black SUV rolled down the street and parked right behind Brandon’s car. Two large, uniform-clad private security officers stepped out, their arms crossed, looking directly at the trio.
Evelyn gasped, grabbing her children. “Let’s go! Brandon, get in the car! She’s crazy!”
They scrambled back into their sedan like terrified rodents, tires screeching as Brandon sped away into the night.
I leaned back against my headboard, took a slow, deep breath, and opened my laptop. It was time for phase three: total financial liquidation.
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