His Loss Twisted into His Theater

...

"Fine, whatever. I'm staying put." I shrugged, shoving the antidote vial back into my pocket.

Herbert Walton froze, having expected my tears or a desperate escape. I only gave him indifference.

His eyes narrowed. "Scared, huh? Ella's opening is way more important than your lowlife mom."

Ella Nelson smirked, giving him a playful shove. "Told you, buddy. You've got her wrapped around your finger."

She leaned closer, her voice dripping with shade. "Bet you tamed her in bed, huh? Last time we got freaky with that new move, I was laid up for days."

They dissolved into laughter, pawing at each other like teenagers. I cleared my throat sharply, cutting through their crap.

Herbert spun, irritated. "What now? Penelope is a filthy mess, probably poisoned from digging through trash. Why bother mopping up her mess? Let her rot."

I'd always thought Ella's influence made him cruel, a temporary lapse in judgment. I was dead wrong.

He genuinely believed it was my mom on death's door, her life worth less than Ella's tacky haunted castle.

His mind was twisted.

I pulled up a chair and sat down. "Alright, I'm here. Your little party is the priority. Screw her life."

Herbert blinked, his sneer deepening. "Damn straight. You're finally getting the point."

Ella cackled, hanging off him. "She is probably faking it to scam cash. Gonna grab her last dime before she croaks?"

Herbert grinned, letting her hands wander over him. "Listen. I dropped 300 million dollars on this project. Ruin our night, and I won't just let her die. I'll bury your whole damn family."

His phone rang, cutting through the tension. He jabbed the speaker button, scowling.

A frantic voice crackled through. "Mr. Walton, your mother is fading fast. We need Professor Walton and her antidote here immediately."

Herbert exploded, yanking my arm so hard the vial slipped from my pocket and shattered on the concrete.

"That's not my mom! Let her rot! Call again, and I'll torch your hospital!" he yelled into the phone, stomping the broken glass to bits.

...

That sealed Jeanne Walton's fate.

The content in the vial was the result of three grueling years in the lab, thousands of failures, and enough funding to buy a dozen haunted castles. It was the only one we had.

Herbert hung up, smirking. "Let her stink up the hospital. One thing to be clear. If it weren't for your looks and decent performance in bed, you'd never have stepped foot in my house."

Ella tiptoed up, planting a sloppy kiss on his jaw. "Her death is a blessing, Caroline. No more begging for scraps. Last time she hit me up for a park janitor gig, saying she'd scrounge 20 extra bottles a day. Hilarious."