She is just seeking attention, doctor, please don't let her dramatic episodes disrupt your triage bay, my stepmother told the ER physician as I lay bleeding onto the coastal clinic floor.
I ignored Garrett Ellison’s threats, driving straight to my late father’s home in Druid Hills. The old house, a stately brick colonial, usually offered a sense of peace, but today it felt like a trap. I needed my personal items, my research notes, my memories.
The moment I stepped inside, the murmur of voices from the dining room reached me. My heart sank.
Evelyn was hosting.
I walked into the opulent dining room, where the elaborate chandelier cast a golden glow over a table set with crystal and china. Aunt Beatrice, her silver hair perfectly coiffed, sat beside Uncle Lamar, his usual placid expression fixed over his expensive suit. Both were foundation trustees.
Evelyn, draped in an elegant silk dress, rose from the head of the table. Her expression was a practiced mask of concern.
“Maya, dear,” she cooed, gliding towards me with open arms. “We were just discussing you. Such a shame, this whole… unfortunate incident.”
She patted my arm, a gesture that felt more like possession than comfort. Then she turned to Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Lamar, her voice dropping to a sympathetic tone.
“I’ve been explaining to them,” Evelyn said, “Maya’s recent erratic behavior. The hospital is being very understanding, considering her… delicate state.”
Aunt Beatrice dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin. “Maya, darling, this is all very unbecoming for the Chisolm name. Your father would be terribly disappointed.”
Her words were soft, but they struck like a whip. Unbecoming. Evelyn had painted me as having a nervous breakdown, feeding them doctored psychiatric notes.
“Evelyn,” I began, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “I am perfectly well. My behavior is not erratic.”
“Now, now,” Evelyn interjected, cutting me off with a wave of her hand. “We all understand that you’re under stress, dear. But your recent actions, combined with this ethics review, make it clear.”
She paused, letting her words hang in the air. “You’re simply not fit to manage your father’s portion of the Chisolm research foundation. It’s too important, too sensitive.”
Aunt Beatrice nodded vigorously, her pearls glinting under the chandelier. “Evelyn is right, Maya. It would be best for everyone if you accepted the settlement, quietly. Perhaps a nice, private therapy facility in North Carolina? Away from all this stress.”
The implication was clear: surrender or be publicly deemed insane.
My gaze flickered to Uncle Lamar. He was the most rational, the one who oversaw the trust’s legalities. He usually avoided confrontation, preferring smooth operations. He looked down at his plate, then slowly, almost imperceptibly, nodded.
His silent agreement was a fresh stab, a betrayal from the very man who should have protected my father’s legacy. He was letting Evelyn win.
The family circle was closing, and I was on the outside.
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