Chapter 6 - Unmasked
Mom stood alone against the dining room table, her face contorting with rage. All her life, she had controlled the Miller family by distributing guilt and playing favorites. She was the matriarch whose Sunday dinners were mandatory and whose disapproval was treated like a death sentence. To be defied so publicly—and to have Dad and Uncle Ray peel away in front of her—shattered her mask completely.
"You ungrateful little viper," Mom hissed, lunging forward to point a manicured finger in my face. "I gave you life! I let you live on this land! You think you're so smart with your receipts and your little notebook? You’re cold-blooded! Your brother’s wife ran off with a car salesman, his children are traumatized, and all you care about is your ledger! You’re no daughter of mine!"
"Mom, stop it!" Jeff’s roar tore through the house.
We all froze. Jeff never yelled. In forty-three years, I had never heard my brother raise his voice above a tired sigh.
He stepped between Mom and me, his massive chest heaving under his flannel shirt. His fists were clenched at his sides, trembling with sheer rage and humiliation.
"Shut up, Mom! Just shut up!" Jeff yelled, tears spilling openly down his rough cheeks now. "Look at what you’re doing! Look at me! You've spent my entire life treating me like an invalid who couldn't tie his own shoes without your permission! You told Brenda I was a failure every time our checks were tight! You poisoned my marriage, you ran my business into the ground by telling me to ignore contracts with people you didn't like, and now you want to steal my sister’s life to make yourself feel like a savior?"
"Jeffrey, I was doing this for you—" Mom gasped, clutching her throat.
"I didn't want this!" Jeff screamed, his voice breaking. "I told you on the phone that Tammy offered us the upstairs! I told you Dale spent all Saturday helping Brody unpack! But you couldn't stand that, could you? You couldn't stand that Tammy fixed my life without you being the hero who held the deed! You don't care about my kids! You care about having a leash around my neck for the next twenty years!"
From the top of the stairs, a small, terrified voice drifted down into the silence.
"Daddy?"
We all looked up.
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Brody, Kenzie, and little Cole were standing on the landing in their pajamas. Cole was clutching Pickles' bowl tightly against his chest, his big brown eyes wide with terror, tears streaking his dust-smudged cheeks.
"Are they taking Pickles away?" Cole whimpered, his small voice echoing off the newly painted walls.
