I straightened my jacket, feeling the cold steel of the concealed microphone against my ribs.
“Let’s finish this,” I said.
When I arrived at my childhood home at 9:00 PM, the house was glowing beneath bright, celebratory lights.
The driveway had been freshly paved. Newly installed LED landscape lighting illuminated the stone facade that my years of sweat and hard work in Hamburg had paid for. The aroma of prime rib and roasted garlic drifted through the front door—a lavish feast prepared by the same woman who had forced my wife to eat dirt from a broken plate just thirty-six hours earlier.
I walked inside.
The dining table was arranged with fine china and crystal glassware. Selina wore a silk dress, the custom gold hummingbird pendant displayed prominently against her chest. Godfrey sat at the head of the table in a tailored blazer, slowly swirling a glass of top-shelf bourbon.
“Damian! My boy!” Selina cried, hurrying over and pulling me into a tight embrace. She smelled of expensive floral perfume—another luxury purchased with my wire transfers. “How is poor, sweet Phoebe doing? We’ve been praying for her all weekend!”
“She’s resting, Mom,” I said, stepping out of her embrace and sitting at the table. “The doctors say she has a long road ahead.”
“Praise God she’s in good hands,” Selina said smoothly as she poured me a glass of wine. “You know, Damian, your brother and I were talking earlier… about how stressful this whole ordeal has been for you. Working in Germany, the chemical exposure, Phoebe’s health…”
“It’s been tough,” I agreed, taking a slow drink of water. “Especially finding out that Phoebe barely saw a doctor all year.”
Godfrey placed his glass down with a heavy clatter and leaned forward. “Look, Damian, let’s be adults here. Mom handled the finances the best she could. Medical bills in this country are a scam! If we had thrown all your hard-earned money at those hospital bloodsuckers, it would have been drained in two months! Instead, I invested it into the auto shop. That shop is bringing in $10,000 a month now! I grew your money!”
“You grew my money?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. “By buying yourself a $60,000 SUV and putting the title in your name?”
Selina reached across the table and patted my hand with a sickly sweet smile. “Damian, honey, family assets are shared assets! Godfrey needed a reliable vehicle to represent the business! And the house renovations? They increase the property value for everyone! When I pass away, this house goes to you and Godfrey anyway!”
“And Phoebe?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft. “Where did she fit into your investment strategy? Sleeping in a tool shed? Starving until her hair fell out?”
Selina’s smile faltered, replaced by a flash of unmistakable irritation. “Phoebe was an ungrateful drain on this family! She complained constantly, she was weak, and she wanted us to throw tens of thousands of dollars into chemotherapy for a disease that was probably terminal anyway! I made an executive decision as the head of this household to preserve our family’s wealth!”
