“You took the $114,000 I sent for her care and spent it on yourselves,” I stated plainly, ensuring every word was captured by the microphone beneath my shirt.
“We used it to secure our family’s future!” Godfrey snapped, waving his hand dismissively. “And why are you whining about $100k anyway?! You have $1.5 million hitting your account tomorrow morning! That’s real money, Damian! $100k is pocket change now!”
Selina nodded eagerly, pulling a legal notepad from beneath her placemat. “That’s right, sweetie! Which brings us to tonight. We need to talk about how we’re going to allocate the $1.5 million.”
I stared at the notepad. She had already prepared a budget.
“I’ve put together a wonderful plan,” Selina cooed, turning the pad toward me. “$500,000 to pay off the remaining mortgage and expand the house with a second-story sunroom. $400,000 into Godfrey’s auto shop so he can buy a second tow truck and hire two mechanics. $100,000 for a family trust account managed by me. And the remaining $500,000 can go into a high-yield account for you and Phoebe’s medical needs!”
I studied the figures written in her neat, elegant handwriting. She was assigning two-thirds of my fake settlement to herself and my brother, leaving barely enough for a single round of specialized cancer treatments.
“And if I refuse?” I asked, looking up from the paper. “What if I keep my settlement money for my wife’s treatments and demand that you repay the $114,000 you stole from her?”
Godfrey’s face immediately hardened. His fake smile disappeared, replaced by an ugly, threatening scowl. “Don’t be an ungrateful bastard, Damian,” Godfrey growled, rising from the table and looming over me. “You think you can just walk back in here after four years and demand money back from Mom?! She raised you! She managed this house! If you try to pull some legal nonsense or withhold that settlement from this family, I’ll make sure Phoebe’s life is a living hell. We have records showing she lived here as a dependent. We can claim she was mentally unstable, that she damaged the property, and we’ll sue her for every dime of back rent for using that shed!”
“Is that so?” I asked softly.
“Yes, that’s so!” Selina chimed in, her voice shrill and venomous. “You owe us, Damian! You left us here to deal with a sick, dying woman while you were galavanting around Europe! That $1.5 million belongs to this family! You transfer $900,000 to my account tomorrow morning, or you are no son of mine, and you will never set foot in this house again!”
I remained silent for three seconds. Then a slow, cold smile spread across my face.
