I looked up, staring directly at the gold hummingbird pendant around my mother’s neck. “Jewelry like this?”
Selina instinctively covered the pendant with her hand and stepped backward.
Phoebe sobbed against my chest, finally revealing the truth she had kept hidden for months. She had been diagnosed with aggressive cancer eleven months earlier. And while I had been working myself to the bone in Germany and sending thousands of dollars home every month, my family had allowed her only two doctor visits in an entire year.
Two.
I looked around the property. Brand-new hardwood floors. Custom cabinets. Expensive leather furniture. A seventy-five-inch television inside. Godfrey’s $60,000 truck sitting in the driveway.
Meanwhile, Phoebe’s feet were strapped into worn, dry-rotted sandals.
When I demanded to know how much of my wire transfers had actually been spent on Phoebe’s medical treatment, my mother stammered, unable to show me a single receipt.
I helped Phoebe to her feet, carrying nearly all her weight. “We’re going straight to the hospital.”
Selina moved in front of the gate, attempting to stop me. She started yelling, accusing me of abandoning the family for four years, while Godfrey joined in, insisting I had no right to judge them after being gone so long. Selina continued claiming that Phoebe had brought the entire situation upon herself.
Phoebe held tightly to my shirt, trembling uncontrollably, waiting for me to lose my temper.
I didn’t shout. I didn’t raise my fist.
Instead, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my phone.
I looked at my mother. I looked at my brother. Then I looked at my dying, malnourished wife.
I spoke in a terrifyingly calm voice: “I just received a lump-sum legal settlement of $1.5 million.”
The entire yard became completely silent.
They didn’t know the money wasn’t the real reason I had returned home. It was the trap.
PART 2
“I didn’t come back early just because the metal fabrication plant closed for the season, Mom,” I lied smoothly, making sure my voice carried the heavy, solemn weight of a man delivering monumental news.
I turned my phone toward Selina and Godfrey and opened a pre-formatted PDF document. It displayed the official seal of the Canadian Department of Labour alongside the corporate logo of the multinational conglomerate that owned the manufacturing facility.
“Three months ago, there was a massive, severe chemical exposure incident at the Calgary plant where I was temporarily assigned,” I announced, projecting a rehearsed, grave seriousness. “The parent company chose to settle out of court immediately to avoid federal oversight and a massive public relations disaster.”
Godfrey stepped closer, narrowing his eyes as he examined the glowing screen.
“My personal settlement for exposure and non-disclosure,” I stated, pointing toward the bolded figure at the bottom of the document, “is $1.5 million. Tax-free. The international wire transfer will clear into my primary account on Monday morning.”
Selina’s eyes widened, and her posture instantly shifted from defensive hostility to ravenous greed. The woman who had just watched my wife eat from the ground suddenly gasped, clasping her hands together in fake sympathy. “Oh, Damian… my poor boy… chemical exposure?” Selina stammered, moving toward me with her arms extended. “You sacrificed your health for us! We need to get you checked out by a specialist right away!”
“Don’t worry about me, Mom,” I said, holding Phoebe more firmly against my side. “Right now, I need to get Phoebe to the emergency room.”
“Of course, of course!” Selina agreed frantically, her eyes darting toward the phone in my hand as though the $1.5 million were already sitting on the kitchen table. “Godfrey, help your brother take her to the car! We’ll get her the best private room at St. Jude’s!”
