Chapter 5
“You walk out there making accusations, and I will make sure everyone sees you as a tired migrant worker manipulated by a bitter wife.”
Prudence added softly, “And don’t forget the papers.”
My blood chilled.
“What papers?”
Mother’s smile grew.
“The house title,” she said. “Your power of attorney. The family trust. Documents you signed before you left.”
“I signed papers allowing you to manage construction.”
“And management has responsibilities.” Mother’s voice became smooth now. She was stepping back into control. “You were overseas. I handled taxes, permits, repairs, negotiations. Your sister and I protected this estate.”
“You stole it.”
“I preserved it.”
Sarah whispered, “Daniel…”
I turned.
She looked afraid again, but not for herself.
“For months,” she said, “they’ve been saying they’ll send Jamie away if I speak.”
My son’s fingers curled into my trouser leg.
“Send him where?” I asked.
Mother shrugged. “Good boarding school. Better discipline.”
Sarah shook her head. “No. Not school. They said orphanage first. Then they said a boys’ home. They said nobody would believe he was yours because—”
She stopped.
Because what?
I looked at Mother.
Her smile had vanished.
“Finish it,” I said.
Sarah’s voice thinned. “Because they told people Jamie wasn’t your son.”
The room went utterly still.
Even Prudence looked uncomfortable.
I stared at my mother.
The woman who gave birth to me.
The woman I had called every month from a crowded labor camp, pressing a cheap phone to my ear while men coughed around me and generators groaned outside.
The woman who said, Your son is fine. Your wife is resting. Send a little extra this month, Daniel, prices are high.
I remembered every call.
Every lie had a voice now.
Hers.
Something calm settled over me.
Not peace.
Decision.
I reached into my jacket pocket and took out my phone.
Mother’s eyes dropped to it.
“What are you doing?”
I tapped the screen.
“Calling the police.”
Prudence lunged forward. “Are you insane?”
Mother’s voice sharpened. “Daniel, stop.”
I looked at Sarah. “Do you want to leave this house tonight?”
She answered without hesitation.
“Yes.”
That single word carried five years of hunger, fear, insult, and endurance.
I pressed call.
Mother moved faster than I expected.
She grabbed my wrist with both hands and tried to twist the phone away. Prudence joined her, shrieking, “You’ll ruin everything!”
Jamie screamed.
Sarah pulled him behind her.
In the struggle, my phone slipped and hit the floor, skidding under the counter.
Then the connecting door opened.
A tall man in a navy suit stood there holding a glass of champagne.
He had silver hair, polished shoes, and the expression of someone accustomed to entering rooms and having people arrange themselves around him.
Behind him, several guests peered curiously.
“Gertrude?” he asked. “Is there a problem?”
May you like
Mother froze.
Prudence smoothed her hair immediately.
