Chapter 7 - The Desperate Pleas
By 2:00 P.M. that afternoon, news of the impending receivership had sent shockwaves through my family’s entire social circle.
I was sitting in the executive lounge of my hotel, working on an upcoming expansion proposal for Apex’s European operations, when my phone began to buzz incessantly.
It wasn't just Mom and Dad. It was my aunts, uncles, and family friends—the very people my father had bragged to for years about his "thriving lumber business" and Tyler’s "booming construction company."
I answered a call from my Aunt Clara—Mom’s sister.
"Lucia!" Clara practically screamed into the phone. "Is it true?! Your mother just called me hysterical! She says you're kicking them out of their home and trying to put Tyler in jail!"
"Hello, Aunt Clara," I said calmly. "Did my mother happen to mention that Tyler stole over half a million dollars through fraudulent invoices?"
"Well... well, family matters should be handled within the family!" Clara stammered, caught off guard. "You have tens of millions of dollars, Lucia! How can you be so heartless as to ruin your own parents over some business dispute?!"
"Aunt Clara," I said evenly. "For six years, I privately gave them nearly two million dollars. They didn't care about me; they cared about my money, while treating my daughter like dirt. If you are so concerned about their living situation, you are more than welcome to write a check for $1.8 million to cover their default balance."
Clara went completely silent on the line.
"I didn't think so," I said, and disconnected the call.
At 4:00 P.M., the hotel desk called my suite.
"Ms. Brennan, there is a gentleman in the lobby claiming to be your father. He is insists on speaking with you. Should we call security?"
I paused, looking at the snow falling gently outside the floor-to-ceiling glass.
"No," I said. "Send him up to the private meeting room on the third floor. I'll meet him there."
Five minutes later, I walked into the quiet, carpeted meeting room.
Kenneth Brennan was sitting alone on a sofa. He looked broken. The aggressive, domineering man who had commanded the Christmas dinner table four days ago was completely gone. His shoulders were slouched, his suit was wrinkled, and his hands shook as he held a paper cup of water.
He stood up rapidly when I entered. "Lucia..."
I stayed ten feet away, my arms crossed over my chest. "What do you want, Dad?"
"Lucia, please," he croaked, his eyes red and bloodshot. "Don't do this to Tyler. He's young. He made a mistake. If he gets a felony record, his life is completely over."
I listened to him, feeling a deep, profound sadness—not for him, but for the little girl I used to be, who had spent decades waiting for him to fight for her with half the passion he was currently showing for my brother.
"He's thirty-four years old, Dad," I said quietly. "He's not a boy. He's a grown man who deliberately committed corporate fraud to buy a luxury boat and live a playboy lifestyle he didn't earn."
"I'll sell the yard!" Dad begged, taking a trembling step forward. "I'll give you every penny! We'll move out of the house into a small apartment! Just... just drop the criminal charges against your brother. Please, Lucia. I'm begging you as your father."
"Where was that fatherly protection four nights ago, Dad?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of thirty years of pain. "Where were you when Ellie was crying because she spilled water? Where were you when Tyler was laughing at me at the dinner table? You didn't care about being a father to me. You only cared about being a proud man with expensive things."
Dad dropped his head, a single sob escaping his throat. "I was wrong... God help me, I was so wrong about you..."
"Yes, you were," I said. "And choices have consequences. My legal team will proceed with the asset liquidations. If Tyler cooperates fully with the receivership team and surrenders all assets purchased with stolen funds, Arthur may recommend a deferred prosecution agreement. But that is entirely up to the prosecutor—and Tyler's willingness to tell the truth."
I turned toward the door.
"Lucia," Dad called out weakly. "Will... will I ever see Ellie again?"
May you like
I stopped at the threshold, looking back at the man who had given me life, but had never truly given me love.
"Ellie deserves to be surrounded by people who value her, Dad," I said softly. "Until you learn how to be a real grandfather, stay away from my daughter."
