Chapter 11 - The Hard Truth
|
I stepped aside, silently allowing my son into the house he had grown up in.
Mason walked into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, dropping his face into his hands. Lorraine followed us in, standing near the fireplace. She didn't rush to comfort him. The betrayal at the dinner party still hung in the air, a glass wall between them.
“Where are you staying, Mason?” I asked, remaining standing.
“A Marriott out by the airport,” he mumbled through his hands. “Brooke went to stay with a friend in Highland Park. We… we aren't speaking.”
“Good,” Lorraine said quietly.
Mason looked up, his eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic hope. “Dad, she told me everything last night. About the investments. About the loan. She was crying. She said she just got in over her head trying to build a business so I wouldn't have to work so hard.”
I stared at him, a cold wave of disappointment washing over me. He was still defending her. Even after the eviction, even after the attempted theft of our property, he was still buying the illusion.
“She didn't build a business, Mason,” I said, my voice flat and clinical. “She built a Ponzi scheme.”
Mason flinched. “No, it was just a cash flow problem. The wellness brand is real, she just needed capital—”
“Stop it,” Lorraine commanded, her voice slicing through his excuses like a scalpel.
She walked over to the coffee table and dropped a printed copy of the investigator’s report directly in front of him.
“Read it, Mason,” Lorraine ordered. “Look at the bank statements. She didn't buy commercial real estate. She bought Prada. She bought first-class tickets to Milan. She stole from her friends, and when she got caught, she tried to steal your father’s house to pay off a loan shark.”
Mason stared at the paper. His hands began to shake violently. He read the lines, the undeniable, black-and-white proof of his wife’s sociopathic greed.
“The lenders are threatening her, Dad,” Mason whispered, tears finally spilling over his lashes. “Julian Vance’s people called her yesterday. They told her if she doesn't deliver the deed or the cash by Monday, they are going to the authorities with the wire fraud evidence. She’s going to go to federal prison.”
May you like
He looked up at me, the little boy I had raised begging for his father to fix a broken toy.
“Dad, please,” Mason choked out. “You have the money. You could pay off the loan. Just to keep her out of jail. I’ll work for the rest of my life to pay you back. I promise.”
