Chapter 11 - The Coward at My Door
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I drove straight to my private downtown condominium—a property I had bought entirely on my own two years before I ever met Daniel. He didn't even have a key to the building's main elevator.
I spent the next two hours in a warm bath, soaking my bruised knees and scrubbing the lingering scent of Vivian's perfume off my skin.
At 1:30 a.m., the building's intercom system buzzed violently.
I walked over to the wall monitor in my silk robe. The security camera in the lobby showed Daniel standing under the bright fluorescent lights. His hair was a mess, his designer suit jacket was unbuttoned, and he looked completely disheveled.
I pressed the intercom button. "Go home, Daniel."
"Emma! Please, buzz me up!" his voice cracked over the speaker, sounding desperate and pathetic. "The police came to the house! They questioned Mom for an hour! They gave her a criminal summons for misdemeanor battery!"
"She earned it," I said flatly.
"Emma, she's an old woman!" Daniel cried out, leaning his forehead against the glass of the security door. "She was crying in her bedroom! All the relatives left! Aunt Patricia said she's never speaking to us again because we lied about the family wealth!"
"You lied, Daniel. I told the truth."
"I did it for us, Emma!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the empty lobby. "I just wanted my family to respect me! I wanted my mother to see that I was successful!"
"You wanted her to think you were successful using my sweat, my late nights, and my money," I snapped back. "You built your pride on my back, and then you let your mother kick me while I was down."
"I was frozen!" he pleaded. "You know how Mom is! I panicked! Please, just let me come up so we can talk about how to fix the accounts before tomorrow morning. The SUV leasing company sent an automated repossession notice!"
I stared at the monitor, looking at the man I had loved for four years. I felt no anger left in my chest—only a cold, hollow pity.
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"There is nothing to fix, Daniel," I whispered. "Call your lawyer. Mine will be contacting you in the morning."
I turned off the intercom screen, cutting off his frantic begging, and turned out the lights.
