Chapter 7 - The Final SerpentTwo weeks later, Clara was finally discharged from the hospital.
Though she was still recovering her strength, the pale, hollow look in her eyes had been replaced by the warm, radiant glow of motherhood. We returned not to the sprawling suburban mansion—which now held too many dark memories—but to a gorgeous, sun-drenched penthouse overlooking the Chicago harbor.
Marcus had managed to sell the old mansion within days, liquidating every last asset tied to Eleanor and Julian, ensuring not a single penny of my hard-earned wealth would ever find its way back to them again.
We were sitting together on the living room balcony, watching the sailboats glide across the blue water, when my phone rang.
It was an unknown number from a restricted jailhouse line.
I stared at the screen for a moment before swiping to answer.
“Sebastian?”
It was Eleanor. Her voice sounded thin, cracked, and completely shattered. Gone was the arrogant, haughty queen of the high society dinners. She sounded like an old, broken woman living in a nightmare of her own making.
“How did you get this number?” I asked coldly.
“Please... Sebastian... you have to help me,” she sobbed uncontrollably on the other end of the line. “Julian is locked away in a maximum-security prison. I’m living in a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city. All my friends... they blocked my calls. They won't even look at me. I have nothing left, Sebastian. I’m your mother!”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep, steady breath of the cool harbor breeze.
“You traded your own son’s family, your dignity, and your future for greed and snobbery, Eleanor,” I replied, my voice steady and unyielding. “You had a son who loved you, who gave you everything you ever wanted. And you chose to destroy the woman who kept us alive when we had nothing.”
“Sebastian, please! Just a little money—just enough to get an apartment—!”
“No,” I said softly.
“Sebastian—!”
“Goodbye, Eleanor.”
I hung up the phone.
I didn't block the number immediately. I just set the phone down on the glass table, turning my back on the past completely.
Clara walked up behind me, wrapping her warm arms gently around my waist, resting her head against my back. I turned around, pulling her close against me, resting my hands over her swollen belly as our baby gave a soft, reassuring kick.
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The storm had passed. The house of cards built on cruelty and deceit had crumbled into dust.
And out of the ruins, we had finally built a home.
