Chapter 7 - The Ultimatums
Trisha lifted her tear-streaked face from her arms. "What... what agreement?"
I flipped to the back of the dossier, revealing a legally binding Confession of Judgment and Restitution Contract prepared by my corporate attorney.
"You are going to sign this document admitting to full financial fraud," I stated with absolute clarity. "Under this contract, you will surrender your luxury SUV to my firm tomorrow morning to liquidate for partial restitution. You will surrender every single designer item, gift, and asset you purchased using my firm's funds."
"My car?!" Trisha wailed. "How am I supposed to drive my kids to school?!"
"They aren't going to Pinecrest Private School anymore," I replied coldly. "I informed Mr. Vance today that their enrollment is terminated. They will attend public school down the street, just like every other child in this neighborhood."
"You monster!" my mother screamed, rushing forward to grab my arm. "How can you do this to your own sister?! To your niece and nephew?!"
"I am giving her a choice, Mom!" I shouted back, shaking my mother off. "Option A: She signs this confession, surrenders her assets, takes a job, and pays back ten percent of her wages every month under a court-monitored restitution plan. Option B: I walk out that door, call the District Attorney, and she gets indicted for felony grand larceny by midnight. She goes to prison for five years, and her kids end up in state custody!"
My father looked at the documents, then looked at Trisha. The reality of the situation hit him like a physical blow.
"Sign it, Trisha," my father commanded, his voice dead and hollow.
Trisha gasped, looking at him in utter betrayal. "Dad! You're taking her side?!"
"She’s not taking your side because there is no side to take!" my father roared, tears glistening in his old eyes. "You committed a felony, Trisha! You stole from your sister’s business! You stole from your niece! You lied to us for three years while making us believe Andrea was the selfish one!"
My mother collapsed onto the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably into a cushion.
Trisha looked around the room. She looked at my father's broken face, my mother's weeping form, Neil's stone-cold glare, and my uncompromising eyes. For the first time in her pampered, entitled life, there was no exit strategy. No safety net. No one to write a check to save her.
With shaking fingers, Trisha grabbed the pen from the table. She signed her name on the bottom line of the confession document, her tears dropping onto the ink.
"I hate you," Trisha whispered, glaring at me with pure venom as she pushed the signed paper back across the table. "I hope you burn in hell."
"I don't care if you hate me, Trisha," I said, picking up the signed confession and placing it safely inside my briefcase. "I care that you never touch my life, my business, or my daughter ever again."
I closed my briefcase, locked the clasps, and turned toward the door.
May you like
"We are done," I said to my parents without looking back. "Don't come to my house. Don't call Hannah. We are taking a long, permanent break from this family."
Neil opened the front door, and we stepped out into the cool, clean night air, leaving the wreckage of their lies behind us.
