Chapter 7
“Mom,” I said.
The word tasted like ash.
“Did Vivien starve you?”
Mom looked at the cameras, the angry faces, the police officers.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
She looked at Logan for help, but Logan was already backing away, trying to subtly drop his end of the banner.
“Did she?” I demanded, my voice cracking like a whip.
“No,” Mom whispered, staring at her lap. “Vivien cooks my diabetic meals. She measures my portions.”
“Did Vivien push you down the stairs?”
“No.”
“Who did you give a million dollars to?”
Tears spilled down her wrinkled cheeks. Real tears this time, born of shame rather than manipulation.
“Logan and Sienna.”
The collective groan of disgust from the crowd was deafening.
The livestreamers were having a field day. Comments were probably flooding in by the thousands, shredding my siblings in real time.
“Officer,” Vivien said, turning to the cops, “we’d like to file a police report. Defamation, public harassment, and creating a public disturbance. Furthermore, we are formally requesting a restraining order against Logan and Sienna Harper. They threatened to file false police reports against us, and I have the recordings on my phone.”
“You little bitch!” Sienna hissed, lunging forward.
She didn’t make it two steps.
An officer grabbed her by the arm, spun her around, and slapped a cuff on her wrist.
“Assaulting someone in front of five cops and ten cameras? Not your brightest move, ma’am.”
“Get off me! Logan, do something!” Sienna shrieked.
But Logan was already power-walking toward his car.
He didn’t even look back.
He abandoned his sister.
And, more importantly, he abandoned the mother who had just handed him half a million dollars.
“Logan!” Mom cried, reaching a trembling hand toward him. “Logan, where are you going? I need my stretcher taken back!”
He ignored her, got into his car, and sped out of the parking lot.
I stood there, watching the illusion of my family shatter completely.
For thirty years, I had carried the weight of my father’s dying wish.
Look after them. Cashin, you’re the man of the house now.
I had sacrificed my childhood, my savings, my peace of mind.
I had let them gaslight me into believing that no matter what I did, it would never be enough.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the two one-dollar coins.
Then I walked over to the stretcher.
Mom looked up at me, her eyes pleading.
“Cashin, please. I’m sorry. I just… they needed it more. You’re so strong, Cashin. You’ve always been so strong.”
“I was a child, Mom,” I said softly. “I was eight years old. I needed a mother, but you decided I was a wallet.”
I placed the two coins gently on her lap.
“Here is my contribution to your retirement. Don’t ever contact me again.”
Then I turned my back on her.
Vivien wrapped her arm through mine, and together we walked back into my office building.
The heavy glass doors slid shut behind us, cutting off the sound of sirens, reporters, and my mother’s wailing.