"So now you've got your hillbilly mother pretending to be mine to con money out of me? She thinks calling me 'son' will open my wallet?"
"Delusional. Take a good look at herself and ask if she's even worthy."
He spoke into the phone without a shred of hesitation.
"Nice performance, old woman. You actually have the gall to call me son?"
"Go ahead and kill her. I'm not spending a single cent on some worthless hag."
He hung up.
I lay on the floor, staring at him, at that coldness carved so deep it reached the bone.
Three years of swallowing my pride. Three years of lying to myself. Three years of clinging to some pitiful, laughable hope.
In that moment, every last shred of it shattered.
I wrenched free of the bodyguards' grip and screamed with everything I had, my voice raw and breaking.
"Chester Henson! Open your eyes!"
"The woman they kidnapped isn't my mother! It's yours! Your own mother!"
Chester froze, as if the words hadn't registered.
A split second later, the shock on his face was swallowed whole by blinding fury.
He lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and slammed my head against the floor.
"You've lost your mind! You're absolutely vicious!"