Chapter 7 - The Gathering of the Debt
The confrontation inside my office was not a loud affair, because once Eric realized the legal reality of his situation, his anger evaporated into pure, weeping desperation. He fell back into one of the leather armchairs, his hands covering his face as his shoulders shook with dry, ragged sobs.
"I’m broke, Claire," he whispered into his palms. "The logistics company is three months behind on the commercial insurance. If the DA files these charges, the state will revoke my operating license permanently. Vanessa... she’s already talking about moving back to her parents' place in Austin. She won't stay with a man who has a felony indictment."
"Vanessa didn't seem to mind the indictment when she was ordering the king crab legs on my card, Eric," I said, leaning forward, my arms flat on the desk. "She only minds it now because the lights have been turned on and everyone can see the dirt on the floor."
The office door opened again, and Mom walked in. She wasn't dressed like she was on her way to a charity gala today; she wore a simple knit cardigan and flat shoes, her face lined with the real, unvarnished stress of a woman who realized the safety net had been cut down.
"Claire," Mom said, her voice shaking as she walked over to Eric, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please. Stop this. Your father hasn't slept in two days. The relatives from Denver left this morning without saying goodbye. The whole family is falling apart."
"The family was never together, Mom," I said, looking at her with a quiet, sad clarity. "It was just an illusion held together by my bank account. You all gathered around the table because the food was free, and the second I asked Eric to pay for his own children’s dinner, you all turned into wolves."
"We were wrong about the hotdog," Mom wept, her head dropping. "Eric was being prideful. He wanted to show off. I shouldn't have told you to pack food for Noah. It was cruel. I see that now."
"You saw it then too, Mom," I said softly. "You just didn't care because you thought I wouldn't fight back. You thought I would sit there, take the insult, and pay the four-thousand-dollar bill at the end of the night just to keep the peace."
I stood up, walking to the large plate-glass window overlooking the city. The fog was starting to clear, the sun breaking through the clouds, lighting up the glass towers with brilliant, white flashes of light.
"Here are my terms," I said, not turning around. "Eric signs over his remaining shares in the Vanguard holding company to my firm by noon tomorrow. That will cover the thirty-eight thousand he stole. Vanessa surrenders the title to the luxury SUV—the one my father 'gave' her that was actually purchased through the family trust fund. And you and Dad will move out of the lake house by the end of the month."
Mom gasped, her hand flying to her throat. "The lake house? Claire, that’s our home! Your father built that deck with his own hands!"
"My firm pays the commercial mortgage on that property, Mom," I said, turning back to face her. "It’s registered as a corporate retreat for my consultancy. I’ve allowed you to live there rent-free for five years, but effective today, the lease is terminated. You can use Dad’s state retirement package to buy a nice, modest condo in the suburbs. A place that matches his actual income instead of his illusions."
Eric looked up from the chair, his eyes wide with a terrifying, permanent realization that the sister he had spent a lifetime looking down on was now the absolute ruler of his future.
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"And if we refuse?" he whispered.
"Then the district attorney moves forward with the felony conversion charge," I said, my voice flat, absolute. "And you can explain your financial theories to a jury of twelve people who actually have to pay for their own steaks."
