Chapter 11 - Panicked Voicemails Flood My Phone From Home
My phone, which had been blissfully silent for six months, suddenly buzzed with an avalanche of incoming notifications. Unknown to my family, Harrison had arranged for my personal cell phone number to finally receive calls from their numbers.
My father’s frantic voice mail played first, his usual calm demeanor completely shattered by blind panic:
"Sienna! Please, call me back immediately! There's been some insane mistake with the bank and these corporate filings—"
Then my mother’s sobbing voice message followed immediately after:
"Sienna, sweetheart, please pick up your phone! How could you do this to your own family? We are your parents!"
Finally, Eleanor’s hysterical screeching filled the speaker:
"You ruined my wedding, you selfish bitch! Answer your damn phone right now or I swear I'll destroy you!"
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I listened to their desperate voicemails while sipping my hot chamomile tea in my peaceful Maine kitchen. I didn't feel anger; I didn't feel pity. I felt only a profound, cold sense of cosmic balance being restored.
I deleted all three voicemails without responding, letting the digital silence speak louder than words ever could. They had ignored my cries for help when my family was literally lying in hospital morgues; I owed them nothing.
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