Chapter 9 - The Family Unraveling
While my new life was rapidly expanding into the corporate sphere, the Watson household was experiencing a rapid, systemic economic and social collapse. In suburban neighborhoods, reputation is a fragile currency, and my parents had just suffered a catastrophic market crash.
Megan called me late Thursday night. This time, I picked up, curious to see how the other half of the conspiracy was holding up.
"Chloe, you have to help us," Megan said, her voice frantic, stripped of its usual corporate polish. "Todd’s firm just quietly suggested he take an extended leave of absence. His senior partners are clients at the same country club as Dad. They’re saying our family lacks basic ethical integrity because of the speech."
I leaned against my apartment kitchen counter, sipping a glass of iced water. "Megan, Todd is a grown man with the moral courage of a decorative lamp, as I recall. If his firm is reevaluating his ethics based on public exposure, that’s an HR issue, not a family emergency."
"How can you be so cold?" she sobbed over the line. "Mom is talking about selling the house. Dad’s blood pressure has been through the roof; he's had paramedics at the house twice this week. We’re being ostracized by everyone we’ve known for twenty years."
"You aren't being ostracized, Meg. You’re finally experiencing transparency," I replied evenly. "For sixteen years, you enjoyed the unearned dividends of a rigged system. You sat at the head of the table while I passed the rolls and accepted that I belonged in the background. Now the market has corrected itself. You can't fake credentials when the auditor checks the ledger."
There was a sharp gasp on the other end. "So that’s it? You’re just going to cut us off forever?"
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"I didn't cut you off, Megan. I simply stopped pretending I wasn't in the room," I said softly. "If Dad wants to apologize—not for getting caught, but for what he actually did—he knows where to find me. Until then, lose my number."
I ended the call and placed my phone face down on the counter. The screen lit up once more with a text notification from an unknown number, but I didn't check it. I walked over to my bookshelf, pulled out my old economics notebook from my first semester in room 112, and placed it neatly next to my newly signed employment contract.
