Chapter 4 - The Family EmergencyIt was 8:30 PM on Sunday evening when my phone finally rang. The caller ID flashed Mom.

I let it ring three times before sliding my thumb across the screen to answer. I didn't say a word; I simply waited.

“Claire?” My mother’s voice sounded frantic, completely stripped of its usual haughty composure. In the background, I could hear shouting—Daniel’s angry voice raised in panic, and muffled weeping that sounded unmistakably like Rebecca.

“I’m here, Mom,” I said evenly.

“Claire, thank God! You need to come back over immediately. There’s... there’s been some kind of terrible mistake. Men from the bank are here, and... and Daniel is screaming, and Rebecca locked herself in the bathroom—”

“What kind of mistake, Mom?” I interrupted, my tone icy. “Did Daniel forget to pay another bill?”

“It’s not just bills, Claire! Some state investigator and corporate auditors just showed up at our front door with police officers. They’re saying Daniel forged signatures on commercial loans tied to our house! They’re threatening to seize the property tonight!”

I felt a cold surge of satisfaction, but my voice remained entirely devoid of emotion. “That sounds like a serious family business, Mom. Have you tried asking Daniel to handle it? After all, he’s your golden boy.”

“Claire, don’t talk like that! Your father is having chest pains; we’re waiting for an ambulance! You’re good with numbers, you know about legal things—please, can you look at whatever papers these men brought? They won’t talk to us!”

“No, Mom,” I replied quietly. “I won’t be coming over. And for the record, Rebecca told me today that I have no business interfering in her family’s affairs. I plan to respect her wishes.”

Before my mother could scream another plea, I hung up the phone and set it facedown on the counter.

Mark looked up from his coffee mug, raising an eyebrow. “Ambulance?”

“Dad’s having chest pains because the auditors arrived at their house,” I replied. “The house of cards is finally falling.”

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“Do you think they’ll trace the audit back to us?” Mark asked.

“No,” I smiled faintly. “Anonymous tips to the state securities commission and the commercial fraud division don’t leave return addresses. And even if they suspect me, they have no proof. All I did was stop protecting people who spent decades abusing my children.”