Page 51 of October
She took a single step closer.
"You would have beennothingwithout me," she said, every syllable crisp and deliberate. "I handled your messes. I swallowed your lies. I held our family together with trembling hands while you destroyed it piece by piece."
She paused, letting her words sink in. His mouth opened like he wanted to interrupt, but she cut him off with a glare so sharp it could've split stone.
"Useless?" Her laugh was bitter. "Darling, I was the reason anyone ever tolerated you. I made your cruelty palatable, your recklessness survivable. And now? Now you're just an aging coward with delusions of grandeur and no one left to clean up after you."
He flinched, barely—but it was there. Jeanine leaned in, her voice a whisper soaked in steel. "So enjoy prison, you arrogant idiot. Because for the first time in your life, you'll have no one to lie to, cheat on, or belittle. Just you and the rotting echo of what you could've been."
Then she stopped in front of Laura, cool eyes raking her over like she was something unpleasant smeared on an expensive rug.
"You know," Jeanine began, her voice deceptively soft, laced with venom, "I used to think maybe you were different. Thatmaybeyou were the one who meant something to him. That you were the one he actually cared for."
Laura's lips parted, her eyes wide with confusion. She took a half-step back.
"But you weren't," Jeanine continued, ice in her tone now. "You're not special. You're not clever. You're just one in a long, tired line of cheap replacements—disposable distractions he used until they were used up. You think you are the only one he promised to make CEO? please, you're just another body he draped over his ego like a suit that never quite fit."
Laura's face crumpled, her mascara smudging as tears welled up. Then she straightened, turned on her heel without another glance, and walked away—leaving silence and shame in her wake.
"I—I didn't do anything!" Laura stammered, voice cracking. "This wasn't my fault, James,tell them!I didn't know—"
"I will destroy both of you idiots!" he roared, his voice cracking like a whip through the room. Then he turned on me, lip curling in disgust. "My God, you are a forever disappointment."
I flinched, couldn't help it, but it didn't surprise me. The venom in his voice was familiar, a tune he'd played for years. The words still stung, but they didn't penetrate like they used to.
Then I felt it, a steady, grounding pressure. A manly hand on my shoulder. Warm. Certain.
Joseph leaned in and whispered, quiet but fierce, "I've got you."
Then he straightened, voice rising like a slow burn into the room's cold silence.
"Wow," Joseph said, clapping slowly, deliberately, every smack of palm against palm echoing with contempt. "The Devil and his demonic muse, how touching. I didn't realize we were doing a costume party tonight. Should I grab pitchforks, or just burn this whole place down for ambiance?" He took a step forward, eyes locked on them both. "well, it is Hell's hottest couple. Come on, did you bring marshmallows? Or just the flames of generational trauma?"
My father's face darkened, jaw twitching with fury, but Joseph didn't flinch. He stood tall beside me, defiant, his sarcasmcutting through years of fear like a blade. And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe.
"Go to hell, Joseph," my dad said coldly, his voice slicing through the tension in the room like a blade.
Joseph raised an eyebrow, smirking as if he'd been waiting for the invitation. "No, thanks, Satan. Appreciate the offer, really but I've got brunch later. Somewhere with actual flavor and fewer morally bankrupt ex-heroes lurking in the corners."
He brushed imaginary dust off his sleeve, eyes flashing with the kind of arrogant charm that had always made my skin crawl.
"Butyou," he added with a venom-laced grin, "you go ahead. Take that flavorless, pathologically repressed, patchouli-scented witch with you. God,You two have the charisma of a cold omelette and the ethics of a malware pop-up. It's honestly impressive."
My dad's jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides. " Call my lawyers!" My father screamed.
"Yeah, it won't do you much good, no one would answer if they want to keep their jobs," I said, voice steady.
The old man sneered, his eyes full of venom. "Don't be stupid as usual. I will destroy you all."
Before I could answer, Joseph stepped forward like a showman taking center stage. He clapped his hands once, mock-enthusiastically. "Oh, please.Destroy? You've been trying to play god with the emotional toolkit of a broken Roomba. All you will do is spin in circles and bump into your own failures." He turned to face him fully, arms wide, grin wicked. "It takes a realmasterpiece of failure—a fatheranda man—to make his entire family look at him and feel nothing but disgust. Congratulations, that's not disappointment anymore, that's legacy-level loathing. You're like a fine wine—bitter, overestimated, and best forgotten in acellar."
He pivoted smoothly as Laura started inching away, trying to fade into the shadows. "Don't even try it, doll, cops are everywhere," he said, raising a hand to stop her like he was directing traffic.
"I honestly don't understand how any man would willingly want you," Joseph said, raising an eyebrow like he was inspecting something that smelled bad. "You . hurt. my . baby. You! How? You've got the charm of a boardroom execution, the warmth of a tax audit, and the personality of a malfunctioning printer. Seriously, you're like if Botox became sentient and decided to ruin lives. And that laugh? It's like someone trying to reboot a fax machine with trauma. No wonder he likes you—birds of a joyless feather, huh?" He gave a dramatic shiver.
Laura froze, blinking like she'd been slapped with a dictionary. I chuckled.
"Thomas?" Laura's voice was barely a whisper, fragile and strained. Her eyes searched mine, wide with disbelief—as if she still thought she could talk her way out of this, as if I might protect her.
