Chapter 3 - The Confetti of Ownership
Scattered across the pristine floor are dozens of thick, cream-colored pages.
They are torn into jagged, uneven halves.
A heavy, embossed wax seal sits broken on the tiles, crushed beneath Ryan’s shoe.
The draft from the hallway makes the shredded documents flutter like dead leaves.
Ryan stands over his wife.
"You hit my mom."
His voice is a flat, mechanical hum.
It carries the terrifying calm of a man who believes he is entirely right.
Claire spits a bitter, metallic taste onto the granite.
She pushes herself up onto her elbows.
Her chest heaves, stretching the beige silk.
"You watched her beat your wife."
She points a shaking, bruised finger at the torn papers surrounding her knees.
"My mom left it to me."
The house.
The marble.
The very floor they are bleeding on.
Ryan’s grey trousers brush against the torn deed.
He tilts his head, looking down at her as if she were a spill on the rug.
May you like
"Apologize to mom."
---
