Chapter 2 - The House of Glass
The flashing lights of three squad cars and an ambulance strobed against the high windows of our Paradise Valley estate. Within minutes, paramedics rushed into the master bedroom with a stretcher, lifting Irene carefully while checking her pulse.
“Her blood pressure is dangerously low,” the lead paramedic said, securing an oxygen mask over her face. “We need to get her to St. Jude’s emergency obstetrics immediately. Stress and physical trauma are causing early contractions.”
I didn’t let go of Irene’s hand until they wheeled her out the front doors and into the ambulance.
Back in the bedroom, two police officers stood over my mother and sister, who were now sobbing hysterically and playing the roles of helpless victims.
“Officer, you don’t understand, my son has been hypnotized by this gold-digger!” Margaret wailed, dabbing nonexistent tears with a lace handkerchief. “She was clearing out his safe to run away with another man! We were just trying to protect our family property!”
Detective Ryan Vance, a seasoned veteran with graying temples, stepped over the broken electronic lock of the safe and looked at the open suitcases packed with cash and deeds. Then he looked at me, standing near the doorway in my damp suit.
“Mr. Wentworth,” Detective Vance said, walking over. “Your wife’s condition is stable at the hospital, according to the radio update. As for these two... they claim they were stopping a robbery.”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and tapped the screen.
“I called 911 at 1:47 a.m., Detective,” I said evenly. “Before I stepped into the room, I recorded the entire incident. Every threat. Every strike of the hammer. Every lie my mother just told you.”
I handed him the phone.
For three minutes, the bedroom fell into absolute silence except for the hum of the hallway lights. Detective Vance watched the video once, his jaw tightening with every second. When it ended, he handed the phone back to me and turned around.
“Mrs. Wentworth and Ms. Carla Wentworth,” the detective’s voice boomed through the room, stripped of all politeness. “You are under arrest for attempted grand larceny, breaking and entering, domestic assault, and infliction of severe physical harm upon a pregnant individual. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
“No! You can’t do this! Austin, tell them!” Carla shrieked, thrashing as the cuffs clicked around her wrists.
Margaret glared at me with pure, venomous hatred as officers dragged them toward the hallway. “You’re throwing your own flesh and blood away for a stranger! You’ll regret this, Austin! You’ll regret everything!”
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t say a word. I watched them walk out of my house in handcuffs, realizing that the family I thought I knew had been a carefully constructed illusion my entire life.
Twenty minutes later, I locked the front door of the estate, climbed into my car, and drove through the pouring rain toward St. Jude’s Hospital.
When I pushed open the door to VIP Suite 4B, Irene was resting against the pillows. An IV drip was taped to her slender arm, and a faint bruise was already blooming darkly across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open as I walked in.
“Austin…” she whispered, her voice cracking.
I rushed to the bedside, dropping to my knees and gently taking her uninjured hand, pressing it against my lips. “I’m here, baby. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “You don’t understand, Austin… they weren’t just trying to rob the safe tonight.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
Irene looked away, trembling as the horrifying memories washed over her. “They’ve been doing this for months. Ever since you went on your business trips. Your mother... she threatened that if I didn’t sign over my prenuptial inheritance and hand over the deeds to my family’s land, they would find a way to make sure I lost the baby.”
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The room seemed to spin. All the oxygen vanished from my lungs.
“Your mother and sister didn't just want your money tonight, Austin,” Irene whispered, looking into my eyes with stark terror. “They were trying to steal the legal documents proving that this entire estate, and all your corporate holdings, legally belong to my family trust—not yours.”
