Chapter 8 - The Sins of the Father
The next morning, the local sheriff hauled Sterling's hired thug off to the county jail, but the law enforcement response felt suspiciously sluggish. The sheriff, a man who looked like he had spent too many afternoons eating free lunches at Sterling’s country club, muttered something about "kids pulling pranks" and promised to look into it. I knew then that the local authorities were compromised. I was on my own. Or so I thought, until a rusted, beat-up sedan pulled into my driveway later that afternoon. The passenger door opened, and a frail, trembling woman stepped out. It was my mother.
She looked a decade older than she had at the courthouse. The arrogant, pearl-clutching matriarch was gone, replaced by a terrified, exhausted shadow. Knox growled low in his throat, but I placed a calming hand on his head. I didn't invite her inside—she hadn't earned that privilege—but I stood on the porch, waiting for her to speak.
"Evelyn," she choked out, tears instantly spilling down her heavily powdered cheeks. "He's going to kill him. Richard Sterling is going to kill your father."
I crossed my arms, my face an emotionless mask. "Explain."
Between heavy sobs, the pathetic truth finally poured out. My father hadn't just been greedy; he had been drowning. Years of maintaining a country-club lifestyle they couldn't afford had led him to underground, high-stakes poker games run by Sterling's syndicate. My father owed Sterling over a million dollars. When my grandfather died and left the property solely to me, my father panicked. He forged the tax documents and tried to steal the land through the courts to hand the deed over to Sterling to wipe the debt clean. When Judge Simmons threw the case out and exposed the fraud, Sterling’s patience evaporated. He had given my father one week to secure the land, or he was going to collect the debt in blood.
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"Please, Evelyn," my mother begged, falling to her knees on the dirt driveway. "I know we were terrible to you. I know we didn't support you. But he's your father. Just sell the land to Sterling. Give him what he wants. We’ll leave the state. We’ll never bother you again."
I looked down at the woman who had ignored my existence for twelve years, who had tried to leave me homeless, now begging me to sacrifice my grandfather’s legacy to save a degenerate gambler. "I will handle Sterling," I said coldly, my voice devoid of any warmth. "But not by surrendering. You tell Robert that he brought a wolf to my door, but he forgot that he raised a soldier. Go home, Margaret. I'll finish this."
