I looked at Elena’s shaking legs and the red marks encircling her wrists.
“I’m choosing my family.”
My mother’s expression hardened.
“You own nothing without me. The company, the house, the accounts—everything came from your father.”
That was what she believed.
I carried Elena upstairs, called her doctor, and packed two suitcases—one for her and one for me.
I did not raise my voice.
I made no threats.
I refused to give my mother the dramatic confrontation she expected.
While Elena changed clothes, I unlocked the drawer in my study and removed six months of financial statements.
The same pattern appeared again.
Repeated transfers had been made from our household reserve into companies with harmless-sounding names: Lark Consulting, Northbridge Interiors, and Meridian Wellness.
The missing total was $684,000.
My mother appeared in the doorway.
“You’ve been careless,” she said. “Elena spends too much.”
I turned another page and found Lucas’s signature on a transfer authorization he apparently believed had been erased.
Then I found the destination account.
It did not belong to Elena.
It belonged to my mother.
I closed the folder.
“You’re right,” I said. “Someone in this house has been careless.”
She smiled, convinced I had accepted her explanation.
Instead, I lifted the suitcases, took Elena’s hand, and left without looking back.
