Ava waited until the sound of heels faded down the marble staircase.
She dragged her legs over the side of the high mattress.
The floor felt like cold blocks of ice against her bare feet.
She pressed her palm flat against the wall to keep from falling forward.
Every step toward the dresser felt like walking through deep wet sand.
Her eyes blurred as another wave of dizziness hit her tired brain.
She reached out her hand, her fingers barely grazing the cool glass screen.
Her phone began to buzz loudly on the polished wood surface.
The caller ID showed Julian's name in bold white letters.
Ava pressed the green icon with her thumb and lifted the phone to her ear.
Ava: Julian... please... I need help right now...
Julian: Ava? What is wrong with your voice? Why are you gasping?
Ava: Your mother... she tore my clothes... she won't let me rest...
Julian: What are you talking about? She promised me she was taking care of you!
Ava: She canceled the doctor... she wants me to cook for guests...
A heavy silence fell over the line for three brief seconds.
Ava heard the sound of car tires screeching loudly in the background.
Julian had never left for the airport after all.
Julian: I am turning the car around right now. Hold on, my love.
Ava: Please hurry... I cannot stand up much longer...
Julian: Listen to me, Ava. Did she find the blue folder in my desk?
Ava: What blue folder? I haven't been in your office space.
Julian: Keep the bedroom door locked until I get inside the driveway.
The call cut off with a quick beep as the signal dropped out.
Ava slid down against the wooden side of the heavy dresser.
She clutched her phone against her chest like a protective shield.
Across the room, the hallway door slowly swung open once again.
Mrs. Marshall stood in the doorway holding a silver tray with a cold glass.
Her smile was sharp and lacked any real human warmth or kindness.
Mrs. Marshall: Who were you talking to on that phone just now?
Ava: I called Julian. He knows everything you just did to me.
Mrs. Marshall: Julian is on an airplane to New York for the weekend.
Ava: He did not board the plane, Mrs. Marshall. He is coming back.
Mrs. Marshall's face turned pale for a split second before she sneered.
She set the heavy silver tray down on the small sofa by the door.
Mrs. Marshall: You think my son will take the word of a sick girl over his mother?
Ava: He loves me, and he knows how you really treat people.
Mrs. Marshall: He owes his entire life and career to my family's fortune.
Ava: This house does not belong to your family background, Mrs. Marshall.
Mrs. Marshall: Keep talking like that and you will find yourself on the street.
The older woman stepped closer, her eyes flashing with intense legal greed.
She reached into her dark jacket pocket and pulled out a key ring.
Ava recognized the key to Julian's private home office desk drawer.
Mrs. Marshall had been searching through their private financial files all morning.
The real fight over the estate was just beginning to unfold.