Vivian’s campaign of isolation hit swiftly, like a silent, creeping chill. The phone calls from extended family members, once frequent and filled with polite inquiries, simply stopped.
Invitations to holiday gatherings, birthday parties, even casual weekend brunches, ceased arriving in our mailbox. I felt a cold shoulder from people I had considered distant acquaintances for years.
I decided to try and reach Robert Holloway, Vivian’s husband. He had always been superficially genial, though weak-willed.
I called his office, but his assistant told me he was “in meetings” for days on end. When I finally reached him on his personal line, his voice was tight.
“Isabella,” he said, sounding strained. “Vivian’s just under a lot of stress.”
He didn’t acknowledge the scholarship revocation or the incident at the gala. He sounded like a man walking on eggshells.
“Stress?” I asked, my voice rising. “She kicked Leo, Robert. And she took his scholarship.”
There was a long silence, then a sigh.
“You’re overreacting about the scholarship,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “There are other options.”
His callous dismissal of Leo’s pain and future felt like a physical blow, a confirmation that Vivian’s influence had poisoned even the gentlest members of the family. The line went dead.
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