Chapter 5 - The UnravelingChelsea blinked, looking around the room as if trying to decode a language she didn't speak. She walked over to our mother, wrapping a protective arm around Mom’s trembling shoulders.
“Mom, what is she talking about? Why is Lucy acting so crazy?” Chelsea demanded, her voice rising in defensive irritation. “Fix her, Mom. Tell her to leave. I came over because I need funds for the weekend getaway with my sorority alumni group, and Carter needs new cleats for soccer.”
Mom didn't answer. She stared blankly at the floor, completely defeated, the weight of four decades of deception finally crushing her spirit.
“Mom?” Chelsea shook her shoulder gently. “Did you hear me? Tell Lucy to get out of our house.”
“It’s not our house, Chelsea,” I said quietly, walking over to the coffee table and picking up the legal folder containing the property deeds and trust documents we had pulled from the box. “According to the original family trust established by our grandfather and registered under the estate’s true holdings, this property and all associated accounts were deeded directly to Robert Stark—and upon his incapacity, managed exclusively by his designated medical and legal proxy.”
I paused, looking straight at my sister.
“Guess whose name is on the proxy paperwork, Chelsea?”
Chelsea’s face went blank. “What? That’s impossible. Mom said everything goes to me and Carter! We’re the real family!”
There was that word again. Real.
It hung in the air like a foul odor.
“There is no 'real' family, Chelsea,” I said, my voice cutting through her confusion like steel. “There are only people who do the work, and people who take the credit. And as of today, the checkbook is closed permanently.”
Chelsea turned frantically to our mother, shaking her arm harder now. “Mom! Tell her she’s lying! Tell her you’re going to call the police!”
Mom let out a low, ragged sob, finally pulling away from Chelsea’s grasp and sinking heavily onto the living room sofa. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
“She’s not lying, Chelsea,” Mom whispered through her fingers. “The money... the accounts... they’re locked.”
Chelsea staggered back as if she had been physically struck. Her designer latte slipped from her fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor, dark brown liquid splashing everywhere across the pristine rug.
“Locked?” Chelsea shrieked. “What do you mean, locked? How are we supposed to live?! How am I supposed to pay my car note?!”
“Welcome to the real world, sis,” I said, turning my back on her and walking over to my father’s wheelchair. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder. “Dad’s coming home with me today.”
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“You can’t take him!” Chelsea screamed, hysteria finally taking over as she realized her entire lifestyle had evaporated in sixty seconds. “Who is going to take care of him?! Who is going to pay for his nurses?!”
“I am,” I said calmly. “Because unlike you and Mom, I actually love him. And I’ve got the receipts to prove it.”
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