Chapter 3 - The Frantic Phone Call
Nathan was sitting in a corner office, pretending to work while browsing for expensive golf clubs on company time.
His cell phone started vibrating aggressively on his desk, flashing Elena's picture.
He ignored the first two calls, annoyed that she was interrupting his lazy afternoon.
When it rang a third time, he angrily snatched it up, ready to scold her.
"What is so important that you have to blow up my phone, Elena?" he snapped into the receiver.
"Nathan, you need to get home right this second!" she sobbed into the microphone, pure panic lacing her voice.
He rolled his eyes, assuming his mother had finally snapped and yelled at his precious wife.
"Listen, if my mother is throwing a tantrum, just ignore the old bat," he said dismissively.
"It's not your mother, Nathan, there are huge men tearing our house apart!" Elena screamed so loudly the phone distorted.
Nathan sat straight up in his leather desk chair, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest.
"What do you mean men are tearing the house apart?" he demanded, dropping his pen.
"They changed the locks, they are throwing our furniture on the lawn, and they said they own the property!" she cried out.
A cold, terrifying realization began to wash over Nathan's arrogant mind.
He remembered his mother's unnatural silence that morning after he had struck her face.
He remembered the calm, dead look in her eyes that he had foolishly mistaken for submission.
"Don't talk to anyone, I am leaving the office right now," Nathan ordered, his hands suddenly trembling.
He sprinted out of his office building, not even bothering to tell his manager he was leaving.
He drove recklessly through the city traffic, running two red lights in his desperate rush to get home.
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He told himself it was just a massive misunderstanding, a stupid clerical error with the bank.
But deep down in his stomach, a sickening feeling told him his mother had finally fought back.
