Chapter 6 - The Ultimatum
Two weeks rolled by with the speed of an express train.
During that time, my life underwent a miraculous metamorphosis. I enrolled in a local graphic design certification program—something Alistair had always forbidden me from doing, claiming it was a “waste of time and tuition.” I opened my own independent bank account. I spent unhurried afternoons taking Nolan to the park, reading him bedtime stories without glancing nervously at the front door to see if Alistair was coming home in a foul mood.
Meanwhile, Alistair’s life was spiraling downward into an abyss of utter desperation.
Since being locked out of the Paradise Valley estate, he and Sharon had been forced to rent a dingy, one-bedroom motel room off the interstate highway. Piper and Mason had moved in with an estranged cousin on the other side of town, splitting up the family unit that Sharon had spent a lifetime trying to weaponize against everyone else.
Alistair’s high-powered friends had vanished like ghosts at sunrise. His phone calls went unreturned. His designer suits hung limply in the cramped motel closet, smelling faintly of stale cigarette smoke and cheap carpet cleaner.
Then came Monday morning.
I was at the kitchen table reviewing design portfolios when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen.
Private Number.
I knew instantly who it was.
I swiped to answer, bringing the phone slowly to my ear.
“Nicole?”
Alistair’s voice sounded hollow, rasped, and utterly defeated. It didn't carry an ounce of its former arrogance. It sounded like the voice of a man who had been hollowed out from the inside.
“I’m here, Alistair,” I answered calmly.
“Please...” he choked out, a ragged sob catching in his throat. “Please, Nicole, you have to talk to your father. You have to tell him to call off his lawyers. They’re talking about criminal indictments, Nicole! They’re saying I could face five to ten years in federal prison for asset misrepresentation!”
“My father’s lawyers operate independently based on statutory law, Alistair,” I replied evenly. “They investigate fraud. If you committed fraud, that’s between you and the federal prosecutor.”
“I’ll sign the divorce papers!” he pleaded frantically, his voice cracking. “I’ll give you whatever you want! Full custody, zero visitation, the house—oh wait, your father took the house—just... please, Nicole, help me fix this! I have nothing left! My mother is crying all day in this fleabag motel room, my car was repossessed this morning, I can’t even buy a cup of coffee without asking someone for spare change!”
I listened to his desperate pleas, feeling neither anger nor satisfaction. Just a quiet, profound pity for a man who had possessed everything worth having—a loving wife, a brilliant son, a comfortable life—and had traded it all away for the empty currency of control and cruelty.
“Alistair,” I said softly, interrupting his frantic monologue. “Do you remember what you said to Nolan the afternoon you slapped him across the face?”
Silence stretched across the line. A heavy, suffocating silence.
“You told him,” I continued, “that life doesn't owe him anything. You told him that discipline comes before compassion.”
“Nicole, please, I was stressed—!”
“Well, Alistair,” I whispered, letting the words sink deep into his consciousness. “Life doesn't owe you anything either. And your education has finally begun.”
May you like
I hung up the phone.
I didn't block the number this time. I simply deleted his contact card entirely, letting him fade into the digital ether where he belonged.
