Chapter 4 - The Frantic Bargain
Nathan’s breathing turned ragged. He lunged forward to grab the bag, but I stepped aside smoothly, gripping the shoulder strap with both hands. He stumbled slightly, catching himself against the antique grandfather clock that our grandfather had passed down to our father. The pendulum ticked inside its glass case, measuring the sudden collapse of his universe.
“Give me that,” he demanded, though his voice lacked any genuine authority now; it was trembling with sheer, unadulterated terror. “Rachel, please. Give me those papers right now. You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“I understand perfectly,” I said. “You’ve spent eight years taking thousands of dollars from people who came to you at the lowest, most vulnerable moments of their lives. You’ve written letters to divorce courts, evaluated custody cases, and treated people with clinical depression. If one of your patients hurt themselves, Nathan, what would happen? What defense do you have when the state finds out you’re an unqualified fraud?”
He dropped his head into his hands, sliding his fingers through his manicured hair, completely unraveling right before my eyes. “You don't get it, Rachel! I read all the textbooks! I shadowed clinics for months! I know more than half the pompous hacks with real PhDs! The system is rigged with bureaucratic nonsense designed to keep talented people out. I just... I skipped the red tape. My clients love me! They thrive under my care! I’m helping people!”
“You’re lying to people, and you’re committing insurance fraud every single day you swipe their cards,” I countered, unwilling to let him rationalize his delusion. “You built your entire identity on a house of cards, and you used it to belittle me at every family dinner for a decade. You called me a glorified babysitter twenty minutes ago, Nathan. While you sit in an office pretending to be a doctor, I actually teach people who do real work.”
Footsteps approached from the kitchen. It was Lauren, carrying an empty pie plate. She stopped at the corner of the hallway, her eyes darting between Nathan’s disheveled state and my rigid stance. “Nathan? Everything okay? Your mother is about to cut the pecan pie.”
Nathan snapped his head up, instantly pulling his posture straight, though his hands continued to shake uncontrollably. “Yeah, babe. Fine. Just... Rachel and I were catching up on some old family business. I’ll be right in.”
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Lauren hesitated, clearly sensing the venom in the air, but turned and walked back toward the laughter in the dining room. Nathan turned back to me, his arrogance entirely replaced by desperation. He grabbed my sleeve, his fingers digging into the wool fabric.
“Listen to me,” he whispered, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I have ninety thousand in a private liquidity account. I’ll wire it to you tomorrow morning. I’ll buy you a house. I’ll tell Mom and Dad that you’re the smartest person in the family. Just burn those letters, Rachel. If this gets out, Lauren will leave me. I’ll lose my practice. I’ll go to prison. You’re my sister. You can’t destroy your own brother.”
