Chapter 9 - Begging on Spun Glass
Three days later, the real damage began to land.
I spent the weekend having the entire house professionally sanitized, the carpets steam-cleaned, and every piece of furniture they had touched wiped down until the scent of their cheap perfume and stale beer was completely eradicated.
On Monday morning, I sat in the executive conference room of Vance & Associates on the forty-second floor of the city center. Marcus sat across from me, a sleek tablet in his hand, displaying the summary findings of the forensic audit.
"The District Attorney’s office moved fast," Marcus said, scrolling through the documents. "Gerald Sterling broke within thirty minutes of his interrogation. He gave up everything. Signed a full confession admitting that Brooke and Evelyn promised him fifteen percent of the property equity if he produced a forged codicil."
"And the unauthorized account withdrawals?" I asked, sipping my mineral water.
"Grand larceny," Marcus replied smoothly. "Forty-five thousand dollars stolen over eighteen months. Because the transactions crossed state lines via electronic bank servers, the federal financial crimes unit had secondary jurisdiction, but the county DA is keeping it local to expedite charges. Warrants were issued two hours ago."
Right on cue, Marcus’s administrative assistant knocked gently on the frosted glass door.
"Mr. Vance, Miss Sterling," she said quietly. "There are three individuals in the lobby. They don't have an appointment, but they refuse to leave. The security desk downstairs sent them up because the older woman started hyperventilating."
Marcus looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want security to escort them to the sidewalk?"
I set my glass down on the polished mahogany table.
"No," I said. "Send them in."
A minute later, the double doors opened.
They looked like ghosts of the people who had sneered at me through a chained door four days ago.
Evelyn was wearing an old thrift-store coat, her hair unwashed, her face pale and lined with exhaustion. Brooke’s eyes were swollen and red from crying, her fingers raw and nervously picking at the seams of her purse. Kyle stood half a step behind them, staring at the carpet, looking like a whipped dog who knew he had nowhere left to run.
"Nora," Brooke choked out, taking an unsteady step into the room before Marcus raised a single hand, signaling her to stop where she stood.
"Stay by the door, Mrs. Miller," Marcus said coldly. "You are currently subject to a temporary restraining order. Miss Sterling has graciously allowed you to speak for five minutes. Do not cross the perimeter of this table."
Brooke swallowed hard, clutching her hands together like a beggar outside a cathedral.
"Nora... please," Brooke wept, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "They told us the sheriff has warrants for our arrest. They told us Kyle and I are looking at three to five years for the bank transfers. And Uncle Jerry... Jerry told us he’s taking a plea deal that names us as the masterminds!"
Evelyn dropped to her knees right there on the commercial carpet, her hands outstretched toward me.
"Nora, my baby!" Evelyn cried, her voice cracking with theatrical agony. "I was wrong! I was confused! The grief over your father made me lose my mind! You can't let them put your own mother in a jail cell! What will people say?! What will the family say?!"
I leaned back in my leather chair, watching them.
There was no anger left in me. No hatred. Only the profound, hollow pity you feel when you look at parasites who have finally run out of hosts.
"You weren't confused, Evelyn," I said, my voice quiet and calm. "You were calculating. You thought because you were my mother, you owned the fruits of my labor. You thought because I was quiet, I was weak."
"We'll pay it back!" Kyle suddenly blurted out, looking up with desperate, frantic eyes. "Every cent, Nora! I’ll get a second job! I’ll work construction! I’ll give you seventy percent of every paycheck!"
"With what credit, Kyle?" I asked, tilting my head. "With what skills? You haven't held a job longer than four months in your entire adult life. You lived off my father, then you lived off me, and then you tried to steal the roof over my head."
"Nora, please," Brooke sobbed, dropping to her knees beside our mother, grabbing the edge of the conference table. "We have nowhere to go! We slept in Kyle’s car for two nights! We don't have money for food! What do you want from us?!"
May you like
I stood up slowly, buttoning my blazer.
"I don't want anything from you," I said. "And that is why you’ve already lost."
