Chapter 6 - The Long-Buried Truth
Evelyn collapsed onto the dining room chair, burying her face in her hands. The tears she had held back broke through in ragged, choking sobs. ""All those things you told me..."" she wept, looking up at Ryan through mascara-stained fingers. ""You told me Claire was going out to bars on Friday nights. You told me that was why she couldn't come to Sunday dinners. You told me she refused your checks because she wanted to claim welfare benefits out of spite!"" Evelyn looked at me, her eyes pleading for a forgiveness she knew she didn't deserve. ""Claire... sweetheart... I believed him. He came over every Tuesday with groceries. He brought me flowers on Mother's Day. He told me he was taking care of you behind the scenes because you were too proud to accept help.""
""He was buying your loyalty, Mom,"" I said, walking over to the dining table and sitting down opposite her. The anger that had burned inside me for hours was suddenly giving way to an overwhelming, hollow exhaustion. ""He brought you fifty-dollar floral arrangements while his children were eating generic mac-and-cheese four nights a week. He gave you prime rib while Noah had to sit on the bench during tournaments because we couldn't pay the league registration fees on time. He spent a few hundred dollars on you to keep you on his side, so that whenever I complained about money, you would call me ungrateful and shut me down before I could speak.""
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Walter stood beside his weeping wife, his large, calloused hand resting gently on her trembling shoulder. He looked at Ryan, who was now leaning against the entryway wall, looking like a deflated balloon. ""How much did you make this year, son?"" Walter asked, his tone deceptively mild. ""The truth. Right now. Or I swear to God I will walk out that front door and flag down the cruiser that patrols the avenue."" Ryan swallowed dryly. He looked at Tessa, who was glaring at him with pure disgust, furious that his lies had dragged her into public humiliation. ""Two... two hundred and twenty thousand net,"" Ryan mumbled, staring at the floorboards. ""After equipment overhead.""
Two hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Noah gasped softly. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. While I was scrubbing dog kennels at midnight for eighteen dollars an hour, calculating whether I could afford both milk and fresh fruit for the week, the man who brought my children into the world had cleared nearly a quarter of a million dollars in profit. And he had refused to give sixty-five dollars a month for his daughter's asthma medicine. ""You're going to pay every single cent,"" Walter said, his voice flat and absolute. ""Not in small installments. Not through your fancy business deductions. You're going to secure an equity loan against your business equipment, and you're going to wire the full thirty-one thousand dollars to the state escrow account by noon on Monday. If that money isn't deposited, Claire will sign the paperwork at the county courthouse at eight o'clock Tuesday morning, and the sheriff can pick you up at your job site in front of your entire roofing crew.""
