Chapter 9
The silence in the kitchen grew so dense that the ticking of the wall clock sounded like a drumbeat. Elena stood frozen, her eyes locked on Thomas’s back as he stared out the window toward the quiet suburban street outside.
“What condition?” Clara demanded, her voice cracking with a mixture of fear and lingering defiance. “What could you possibly want from us that isn’t already covered by your little financial takeover?”
Thomas turned around slowly, leaning his hips against the edge of the kitchen counter. He folded his arms across his chest, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two sisters.
“I want the truth about what happened the night my father left,” Thomas said, his voice cutting through the room with razor-sharp precision. “For twenty-five years, my father told me that he was driven out of this house at gunpoint by his own brother—by you, Arthur.”
Arthur staggered backward, catching his hip against the corner of the table. His face turned an ash-gray color, and he grabbed at his chest, his breathing turning shallow and ragged.
“Dad!” Elena cried out, rushing to his side and grabbing his arm to steady him.
Martha pushed past her daughters, grabbing a small plastic inhaler from her pocket and pressing it urgently against Arthur’s lips. The old man took two shaky puffs, his eyes rolling back slightly as he fought to regain control of his racing heart.
Thomas didn’t move to help. He stood watching the scene with a cold, detached curiosity, as if he were observing actors in a tragedy he had seen performed a hundred times before.
“He wasn’t driven out at gunpoint,” Martha said fiercely, glaring at Thomas with a sudden surge of protective fury as she rubbed her husband’s back. “Your father left because he stole from the family business, David. He robbed his own brother blind to fund a gambling addiction that almost landed him in a federal penitentiary.”
Thomas’s expression darkened instantly. He pushed off the counter, taking two long strides toward Martha until he was towering over the elderly woman.
“That is a lie,” Thomas hissed, his calm demeanor finally cracking to reveal a well of deep-seated rage. “My father never stole a dime. The audit report was forged by Arthur to cover up his own embezzlement.”
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Elena looked from Thomas to her father, her blood running cold as she saw the guilty confirmation written all over Arthur’s tearful, downturned face.
Before anyone could speak, a heavy pounding echoed from the front door, followed by the loud, authoritative voice of the local sheriff announcing his presence in the hallway.
