Lady Evelyn’s jaw practically hit the imported marble. “Raymond, you can’t be serious! I am your mother!”
“And you are trespassing,” Raymond shot back, his voice deadly calm. He snapped his fingers. Two burly estate security guards instantly materialized from the hallway shadows. “Escort them to the gates. If they resist, call the police.”
Rebecca shrieked as a guard seized her silk-draped arm, dragging her and a sputtering, furious Evelyn out the grand oak doors.
*SLAM.*
The heavy silence that followed was broken only by Raymond exhaling sharply. He turned, immediately dropping to his knees to scoop up his trembling wife and feverish son. “Clara, sweetheart, it’s over. They’re gone. Let me get him to a doctor—”
“That won’t be necessary, Ray,” Clara interrupted.
Her breathless, agonizing sobs vanished instantly.
Raymond blinked, freezing in place. “What?”
Clara calmly wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks, her terrified expression melting into a razor-sharp smirk. In her arms, the crying five-year-old boy suddenly giggled, sitting up perfectly fine. He reached under his blue sweater and pulled out a heavy-duty, boiling-hot thermal gel pack.
“You were right, Mommy!” the boy beamed, his deadly ‘fever’ miraculously cured. “The hot pack made my forehead super warm!”
Raymond stared in utter disbelief. “You… you faked it?”
Clara stood up, smoothing down her messy shirt with predatory grace. She walked over to the imported Italian leather sofa, sitting exactly where Evelyn had been moments before.
“They’ve been trying to force me out of this family for five years, Raymond,” Clara purred, crossing her legs. “I just needed you to finally pull the trigger. It’s amazing what a few scattered toys and a little heat pack can do when timed perfectly with your flight schedule.”
Raymond looked from the thermal pack to his brilliantly ruthless wife. Slowly, a wicked, admiring smile spread across his face.
“Remind me,” Raymond chuckled, “never to cross you.”