Chapter 3: The Showdown Begins

Now, standing in the doorway, the old lady berated Derek:

"Ungrateful brat! Now you’re successful, living in a two-story house, driving a shiny new Ford, and you just watch your elder brother’s family eat ramen. Think you’re something special now, don’t you? Feeling proud?" She jabbed him in the chest with her cane, while neighbors peeked through their blinds.

"Mom, we never—" Derek tried, but she cut him off.

"Shut up, you troublemaker! If you hadn’t egged him on, would my son ignore his own mother?" She waved her cane so wildly she nearly knocked a photo off the wall.

"Don’t think just because you snuck off to the city, I can’t find you. You can run but you can’t hide. All these years, the money you owe your elder brother—I’ve kept a record!"

She slammed a yellowed notebook onto the table. It looked straight out of an old detective show—pages packed with angry, cramped scrawls.

Derek picked it up and flipped through a few pages:

"Mom, when did we owe elder brother over sixty thousand dollars?" His voice was thin, resigned to the absurdity.

"What do you mean over sixty thousand? It’s sixty-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty-four dollars and fifty-one cents! If your elder brother hadn’t saved you from the river and gotten sick, he’d have been picked by the army to be an officer. This is a discount because you’re my own son, his real brother."

"Ungrateful brat! Not only do you not make up for what you cost your brother, you hide from me with this jinx!"

"Don’t call me mom. I don’t have such a shameless son." Her voice echoed, chilling the air.

"It wasn’t elder brother who saved Jason, it was Jason who saved elder brother!" Lillian finally blurted out, her voice shaky.

Lillian tried to defend Derek, but was met with a sharp slap. The sound cracked through the air—everyone flinched. Even Max barked from his crate. I felt my fists clench under the table, nails digging into my palms. I promised myself then: no one would ever hit my family and get away with it.

"You troublemaker! I’m talking to my son—what right do you have to butt in? I said elder brother saved him, so it’s elder brother who saved him!"

"Enough nonsense. I’m here for real business. My eldest grandson is getting married in a few days. Clean up this house and give it to Kyle as his wedding house."

"No way! This house is for Natalie and Marcus." Lillian, holding her swollen cheek, stood her ground, steel flashing in her eyes.

"You troublemaker! Who gave you the right to speak?" The old lady’s voice rattled the windowpanes.

While they argued, I walked over and unlatched Max’s crate. If there was ever a time for backup, this was it.

Max, our Belgian Malinois, was always protective—he’d go wherever you pointed, a little too energetic, but right now, he was my knight in fur.

After I got pregnant, my in-laws kept Max crated, afraid he’d accidentally knock into me. They’d bought him a plush dog bed and fancy chew toys, hoping to keep him out of trouble.

"Max, go!" I called, and his ears shot up.

At my command, Max bolted over to my in-laws. His nails clicked across the hardwood, tail wagging but eyes sharp.

Confronted by the Malinois, the old lady scrambled onto the couch, muttering about "damn city dogs" and eyeing our family’s framed photos with suspicion. Her stick-thin legs trembled, cane clattering to the floor. For the first time, she looked her age.

"You... you stay away! I’m not afraid of you!" she shrieked, her voice suddenly less sure.

"Don’t—don’t bite me! Are you all dead? Stop it! Help... help!" Her cries echoed down the stairwell, but no neighbor came running.

My in-laws stood frozen. Lillian’s hands hovered at her mouth, Derek’s knuckles white around his mug.

I gently helped Lillian up:

"Lillian, your face is swelling up. Marcus, run to Walgreens and get some anti-inflammatory cream for Mom." My voice stayed calm, but inside I was burning.

Max trotted over to me, whining and nudging my knee. I rewarded him with a head rub, my fingers tangling in his fur.

The old lady snapped back, pointing at me:

"Good, you little tramp, using this wolf-dog to bully the elderly! Kill this dog for me! Kneel and apologize, or I’ll make my grandson divorce you! Let’s see what this washed-up wife does when my grandson leaves her!" Her words were sharp as broken glass.

"Mom, Rachel and Marcus have a good relationship. They won’t divorce." Lillian tried to defend me, but the old lady’s glare shut her down. Derek looked like he wanted to disappear behind the sofa.

I patted Max’s rear. "Speak, Max!" He barked sharply in response. Marcus cracked a grin: "He’s got opinions, that’s for sure."

This time, Max not only barked but lunged. He stopped short, trained as he was, but the threat was clear.

I didn’t move to stop him. I just folded my arms and lifted my chin.

The old lady rolled her eyes and slumped sideways on the couch, breath coming in ragged gasps.

After she passed out, Lillian Venmoed me a few thousand more dollars, this time with a crying emoji and a string of thank-yous.

"Rachel, go hide somewhere with Marcus. You helped us with Max—we’ll never forget it. But the old lady’s not easy. When she wakes up, who knows what tricks she’ll pull."

"Yes, Rachel, you’re pregnant. The doctor said not to get too upset. If the sky falls, your parents will hold it up. Treat this as a honeymoon with Marcus." Derek’s voice was kind, but desperate.

"Lillian, Derek, what are you saying? The old lady may be tough, but I’m no pushover. As for the baby, don’t worry. If it can’t handle a little storm, it’s not worthy of being my kid." I smiled, but my hands were trembling.