Chapter 5 - Lauren's Plea
By Sunday, the hospital staff had agreed to discharge me. I was allowed to return to my penthouse, provided I had twenty-four-hour nursing care for the first two weeks.
My home was a sanctuary of glass and steel, overlooking the city skyline. It was quiet, clean, and safe. My nurse, a lovely woman named Clara, had set up a recovery station in my living room, complete with a state-of-the-art adjustable bed and a continuous passive motion machine for my knee.
I was resting, watching the sun set over the Hudson River, when the building's concierge called my intercom.
"Miss Harrison, your sister is in the lobby," the concierge said, his voice tight. "She says it’s an emergency. She’s refusing to leave, and she’s crying. Should I call the police?"
I stared at the river for a long moment. The sky was a brilliant, bruised purple, the same color my leg had been after the crash.
"No," I said. "Send her up. But tell security to accompany her to my door."
Ten minutes later, Lauren walked into my living room.
She looked nothing like the polished, pristine woman from her social media videos. She was wearing an oversized gray sweatshirt, her hair was tied in a messy, greasy bun, and her face was bloated and red from crying. She looked young, small, and terrified.
"Miranda," she sobbed, running toward my bed. The security guard stepped into the room, but I held up a hand, signaling for him to wait by the door.
"What do you want, Lauren?" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion.
"You have to make them stop," she cried, falling to her knees beside my bed. She reached out to grab my hand, but I pulled it away, placing it under the blanket. "The internet... they're tracking down my husband's employer. They’re leaving reviews on his company page, calling him a leach. He was put on leave today! They're saying they might fire him!"
"Your husband is an adult, Lauren," I said. "If he can't handle the consequences of his family's actions, he shouldn't have married into a family of grifters."
"We aren't grifters!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "We're your family! How can you be so cruel? You're ruining my life! My house... we can't even afford the mortgage without the monthly allowance Mom and Dad were giving us from your trust! The builder is threatening to sue us because we can't pay the remaining deposit on the custom kitchen!"
"The monthly allowance?" I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "You mean the ten thousand dollars a month I was sending my parents to 'manage their retirement'? They were passing it directly to you?"
Lauren flinched, realizing she had let the secret slip. "We needed it, Miranda! You have so much! You don't even know what it's like to worry about rent, or car payments, or groceries! You've always been the successful one. You've always had everything."
"I had everything because I worked eighty hours a week for eight years while you were traveling through Europe on my dime!" I shouted, the anger finally bursting through my calm exterior. "I worked until my fingers bled, Lauren! I built a company from nothing! And when I was run over by a semi-truck, when I was lying in a pool of my own blood wondering if I would ever see another sunrise, you were taking selfies with a lamp!"
"I didn't know!" she wept, her head dropping against the edge of my mattress. "Mom told me you were fine! She said it was just a minor accident! She said you were just trying to ruin my moving day because you were jealous of my house!"
I stared at her, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.
Jealous.
They honestly believed that I, a self-made multi-millionaire with a beautiful home, a successful career, and my entire life ahead of me, was jealous of a tract home in the suburbs and a husband who couldn't lift a box.
"I am not jealous of you, Lauren," I said, my voice dropping back into a quiet, cold whisper. "I am sorry for you. Because you have built a life out of cards, and the wind has finally started to blow."
"Please, Miranda," she begged, looking up, her mascara running in dark, ugly streaks down her cheeks. "Just sign the paper to let Mom and Dad keep the lake house. If they sell it, they’ll have to move into our basement. We don't have room! My husband is going to leave me if my parents have to live with us! Please, just give us enough to pay off the kitchen deposit. I’ll do anything. I’ll apologize publicly. I’ll make a video. Just don't ruin me."
"You ruined yourself the second you posted that video, Lauren," I said, turning my face away from her. "You wanted the world to see how perfect your life was. Well, now they see it. Every single, ugly piece of it."
"Miranda, please—"
"Security," I called out.
The guard stepped forward, his hand resting on Lauren’s shoulder. "Miss, it's time to go."
"I hate you!" Lauren screamed as she was pulled back toward the door, her desperation turning back into the childish rage she had always used to get her way. "You're a monster, Miranda! You've always been a monster! I hope you spend the rest of your life alone in this glass box! Nobody loves you! Nobody will ever love you!"
May you like
The door clicked shut, her screams fading down the hallway.
I lay in the silence of my penthouse, the sun now completely gone, the city lights reflecting off the glass walls. I looked down at my hands. They were no longer shaking.
