PART 1
After five years of brutal labor in Saudi Arabia, I finally came home.
I told no one.
Not my mother.
Not my younger sister.
Not even my wife, Sarah.
For years, I had dreamed about this moment. Every blister on my hands, every sleepless night in a cramped workers' camp, every degree of desert heat had been worth it because I believed my family was living a better life.
I sent $1,800 every month.
Almost everything I earned.
My mother, Gertrude, handled the money because Sarah didn't have her own account when I first left. I trusted her completely.
"Take care of Sarah and Jamie," I'd remind her every month.
"Of course," she'd always reply. "They're living like royalty."
So when my plane landed three weeks before my contract officially ended, I imagined my wife running into my arms.
I imagined my son barely recognizing me before shouting, "Dad!"
Instead, I drove up to my mansion and froze.
Luxury cars filled the driveway.
Music blasted from inside.
People were laughing.
Champagne bottles lined the front steps.
It looked like a celebrity party.
Confused, I walked toward the front door.
Then I heard a weak voice from behind the house.
"Daddy?"
My heart stopped.
I turned.
Standing near the garbage bins was my son.
My nine-year-old son.
He was painfully thin.
His clothes hung off his body.
His cheeks were hollow.
For a second, I didn't recognize him.
"Jamie?"
He dropped a half-eaten piece of bread and sprinted toward me.
"DAD!"
I caught him in my arms.
The boy was so light it terrified me.
Then I saw Sarah.
She stepped out from behind a rusted shed.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes were sunken.
She looked exhausted.
Like someone who hadn't slept properly in years.
Tears instantly streamed down her cheeks.
"You came back..." she whispered.
I stared at her.
"What happened to you?"
Sarah looked toward the mansion.
The mansion I paid for.
The mansion glowing with expensive lights and filled with music.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"We haven't lived in that house for four years."
I felt the world tilt.
"What?"
"Your mother threw us out."
My hands started shaking.
"What are you talking about?"
Sarah swallowed hard.
"She told everyone you abandoned us. She said the money stopped coming."
I couldn't breathe.
"I sent money every month."
"I know."
She nodded.
"We never received a single dollar."
The music inside the mansion suddenly sounded like a funeral drum.
My mother had stolen everything.
But Sarah wasn't finished.
She grabbed my arm.
"You need to know one more thing."
"What?"
Her voice trembled.
"The party happening inside tonight..."
She pointed toward the mansion.
"...it's your sister's engagement celebration."
I frowned.
"So?"
Sarah's eyes filled with horror.
"She's getting engaged to the man who destroyed our lives."
Before I could ask what she meant—
The mansion doors opened.
And the man stepping outside made me drop my suitcase.
Because I knew him.
And he was supposed to be dead.
