Chapter 5 - The Midnight Phone Call
At 2:30 AM, my cell phone buzzed violently on the nightstand beside my bed.
I woke instantly, the ingrained habit of a trauma surgeon making my reflexes sharp and immediate. I glanced at the glowing screen.
Caller: Mother.
I stared at the screen as it vibrated against the wood. I let it ring out. It went to voicemail.
Ten seconds later, it started buzzing again.
I swiped the green answer icon and brought the phone to my ear, keeping my voice flat and devoid of emotion.
“It’s the middle of the night, Mom. This better be an emergency.”
“Daryl! Thank God you picked up!” my mother’s voice sobbed frantically through the speaker. She sounded panicked, breathless, and completely unhinged. “You have to help us! You have to wire some money immediately!”
I sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What are you talking about? Where are you?”
“We’re at a dismal motel off the interstate in Ventura County!” she wailed, sniffling loudly. “Mark tried to check us into a nice hotel in Santa Monica, but his corporate credit cards were declined—all of them! The bank froze his business accounts this evening because of some federal audit involving Richard Arden’s firms, and Jenna’s personal cards are maxed out! We have nowhere to stay, and the front desk is threatening to lock us out because our reservation payment didn't go through!”
A cold, heavy silence settled over me.
So it had begun. The federal financial dragnet investigating Richard Arden and his corporate associates was already swallowing Mark and Jenna’s lifestyle whole. They had lived for years on inflated credit, fraudulent asset-leveraging, and speculative debt. The moment the foundation cracked, the entire tower of cards collapsed.
“That’s unfortunate,” I said quietly.
“Unfortunate?!” my mother shrieked, her tone instantly shifting from desperate pleading to indignant outrage. “Is that all you have to say to your own flesh and blood?! Your sister is sleeping in her clothes on a lumpy mattress, and your father’s blood pressure medication is back at the cottage! You need to drive out here right now, pick us up, and let us back into the beach house! We can work things out!”
“No, Mom,” I said firmly.
“Daryl James Mercer, don't you dare take that tone with me! We raised you! We paid for your undergraduate tuition assistance twelve years ago!”
“You loaned me five thousand dollars twelve years ago, which I repaid with twelve percent interest within eighteen months,” I corrected her, my voice cutting through her hysterics like a scalpel. “And as for the cottage—it is not your house. It never was. You made your choice this afternoon when you stood by and laughed while Jenna and her kids humiliated my children and destroyed Eli’s property.”
“It was just a stupid toy!” my mother screamed.
“It wasn't a toy to my son,” I replied coldly. “And your refusal to see your own grandchildren as human beings with feelings is entirely on you. Deal with your own financial mess, Mom. I’m hanging up now.”
“Daryl! Wait! Don't you hang up on— click.”
I tapped the red end-call button, set my phone to Do Not Disturb mode, and placed it face down on the nightstand.
May you like
Across the room, Eli stirred in his sleeping bag, rolling over and murmuring softly in his sleep. I got up, walked over, and adjusted his blanket, tucking it securely around his shoulders.
“You’re safe here, buddy,” I whispered into the dark room. “Nobody is ever taking this away from you.”
