6.The call came while I was lighting candles on my daughter’s birthday cake.

The foyer of Daniel’s house smelled of expensive cedar and high-end air freshener. Through the arched doorway to the left, a sprawling living room featured leather furniture, a massive stone fireplace, and framed family portraits hanging neatly on the wall.

Daniel backed away from us, his hands coming up defensively as if he were trying to push invisible walls back.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Daniel hissed, his voice dropping into a harsh, panicked whisper as he glanced nervously toward the upper landing. “What are you playing at? How did you even find this place?”

“Your public corporate bio is very thorough, Daniel,” I said, stepping further into the hall and taking in the sheer scale of the opulence around me. “Though I have to admit, it’s impressive how a man who makes a quarter-million dollars a year has to beg his sixteen-year-old son for part-time grocery money.”

Michael stood near the front door, arms crossed, his silent presence filling the entryway like an immovable wall. He didn’t say a word, but his cold, assessing gaze made Daniel flinch.

“This is private property,” Daniel stammered, smoothing down his shirtsleeve with a trembling hand. “You have no right to show up here. If you’re here to harass me or—”

“Harass you?” I interrupted, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “You had your sixteen-year-old son call me on my daughter’s birthday, Daniel. You fed him a pack of malicious lies, told him I abandoned him, and made him believe I was a cheating deadbeat who owed him money.”

Daniel swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “He… he misunderstood. Kids twist things.”

“He didn’t twist anything,” I snapped, stepping closer until he was forced to look directly into my eyes. “He repeated your exact talking points. Word for word. You used him as a financial collection agency because you’re too cowardly to face your own financial failures—or worse, you’re bleeding him dry to fund this lifestyle.”

“That is none of your business!” Daniel finally snapped back, his voice rising in panic as the executive mask shattered completely. “You walked out years ago! You took everything you could and you left me to pick up the pieces! You have no idea what it took to raise a child on my own!”

“On your own?” A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Daniel, look around you. Look at this house. Look at that car in the driveway. You aren’t raising a child on your own—you’re exploiting one.”

Before Daniel could formulate a defense, the front door clicked open behind us.

Footsteps echoed in the entryway, followed by a heavy backpack dropping onto the tile floor.