I HOARDED TRILLIONS BEFORE THE GREAT FREEZE

Chapter 6: Slapping The Entitled Mother-in-Law

The crunch of designer heels against gravel cut sharply through the heavy pre-dawn air. Clara’s mother, Martha, stormed across the open apron between the parked semi-trucks and my SUV, her face twisted into a mask of furious indignation. Her breath came in hot, ragged gasps as she marched right up to my driver-side door, which I had just pushed open.

"Ethan Vance! Have you completely lost your mind?" Martha shrieked, her voice echoing off the high concrete walls of the warehouse facility. She raised her hand high, fingers curled into a claw, aiming a vicious, public slap straight across my face.

In my past life, I would have frozen, paralyzed by the ingrained fear of disrespecting my elders, taking the blow while apologizing for upsetting them.

Not anymore.

Before her palm could graze my cheek, my hand shot out like a striking viper. My fingers locked securely around her wrist with an iron, bone-crushing grip, stopping her momentum dead in its tracks. Martha gasped, her eyes widening in sheer shock as the sudden wave of pain shot up her arm.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Martha," I said, my voice dropping into a low, terrifying register that radiated pure, freezing malice.

"Let go of me, you ungrateful orphan trash!" Martha screeched, thrashing her arm wildly. "How dare you cut off my daughter! How dare you cancel the wedding and lock our accounts after everything we’ve done for you! You owe us! You owe this entire business to our family!"

I gave her wrist a sharp, dismissive twist, shoving her backward with enough force to send her stumbling several paces into Clara, who had just hurried over from the red sports car. Clara caught her mother by the shoulders, both of them staring at me as if I had turned into a demon.

"Ethan! What is wrong with you?" Clara cried out, her voice pitching up into dramatic, theatrical tears as she clutched her chest. "How can you treat my mother like this? After everything we've shared!"

I stepped out of the SUV, standing tall over both of them. My gaze was devoid of warmth, empathy, or humanity. They were looking at a ghost, a man who had already died in the ice and crawled back out of hell with his soul forged in steel.

"You've shared nothing with me except bills, debt, and emotional parasitism," I replied evenly. "The game is over, Clara. The piggy bank is permanently smashed."

Realizing that playing the victim and leveraging maternal outrage wasn't working, Clara’s expression shifted instantly. The fake tears dried up, replaced by a desperate, cunning glint. She reached into her handbag, fumbled inside for a second, and yanked out a small, plastic white stick, thrusting it out in front of her like a shield.

"You think you can just throw me away?" Clara screamed, her voice cracking hysterically. "Look at this! Two weeks pregnant, Ethan! I am carrying your child! If you abandon us, you're abandoning your own flesh and blood. Legally, you are obligated to sign over half your assets and provide complete financial support right now, or I will drag your name through every court and news outlet in this city!"

The security team I had ordered to stand watch over the facility stepped out from the shadows, four burly men in tactical gear moving forward with heavy, deliberate steps. They looked at Clara and the plastic stick with total indifference.

I let out a cold, humorless laugh that sounded more like a dry rattle.

"Pregnant?" I echoed, stepping closer until I towered right over her. "Clara, we haven't touched in over three months. Even if your math was somehow miraculously distorted, I know damn well whose habits you've been keeping on the side. Try filing a paternity suit. See how fast a judge laughs you out of court when I present the bank records of your weekend trips with Garrett's gambling associates."

Clara's face drained of all color, her jaw slackening as the terrifying realization hit her, I knew everything. I knew her secrets, her betrayals, and her games.

"Take them away," I commanded, raising my hand toward the security detail.

Before Clara or Martha could scream another insult, two of the massive tactical guards stepped in, gently but with inescapable, crushing force, grabbing both women by their arms and hoisting them backward. Martha wailed curses at the top of her lungs, kicking her heels against the dirt, while Clara thrashed violently, her face contorted in absolute hatred.

"Get your hands off us! You thugs! Ethan, you'll pay for this!" Martha shrieked as they were dragged away from the private compound perimeter and tossed unceremoniously onto the public asphalt outside the automated security gates.

The heavy steel gates rolled shut with a deafening, metallic slam, locking automatically into place and cutting off their pathetic screeches.

I stood in the center of the quiet courtyard, breathing in the cool, pre-dawn air. The distraction was gone. The parasites were locked out.

As the security team retreated back to their patrol posts, my phone buzzed violently in my jacket pocket, breaking the brief silence. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. A delayed text message notification had finally broken through the blocked number array, a final, venomous threat sent straight from an unknown burner number registered to Clara.

"You'll regret this, Ethan! We'll make sure you lose everything by tonight!"