Chapter 5 - The Collapse
"Dad, no... please, everyone is watching!" Brittany wailed, the tears finally breaking through her makeup, streaking black mascara down her cheeks. "The wedding—we’re already married! The ceremony was an hour ago!"
"The marriage license has not been filed with the county clerk yet," Arthur stated flatly. "It is sitting in the officiant’s leather binder in the bridal suite. It will not be filed. And you will not spend one second tied to a criminal."
"Arthur, you can't do this!" Evelyn cried out, reaching for Arthur’s sleeve. "We are family now! Think of the embarrassment! Think of what this will do to our social standing!"
Arthur pulled his arm away as if brushed by something filthy. "My social standing will survive, Evelyn. Your son’s freedom will not. If one dollar of my daughter’s trust fund touched his fraudulent accounts, I will ensure he spends the next decade in federal prison."
The ballroom descended into utter bedlam.
Guests began standing up, scraping chairs against the floor, whispering loudly, pulling out their phones. Several people were openly filming. The mockery that had been aimed at me ten minutes ago had completely reversed its polarity. Now, Jake was the freak show. Jake was the joke.
Jake fell to his knees on the stage, tugging at his silk bow tie as if he were choking. "Mom... do something. Mom!"
Evelyn spun toward me, her eyes wild, her teeth bared like a cornered animal. "You did this! You brought your little spy here to destroy your brother! You've always hated him because he was better than you! Because your father loved him more!"
I looked at my mother—the woman who had spent my entire childhood telling me I wasn't pretty enough, smart enough, or worthy enough. The woman who had taken my father’s dying gift to my son and handed it to a golden child who couldn't even run a business without committing a felony.
"Dad didn't love him more, Evelyn," I said, my voice eerily calm amid the chaos. "Dad knew exactly what he was. That's why he hid this paper where Jake would find it only after it was too late."
I reached down and took Mason’s hand.
His little fingers wrapped tightly around mine. He looked up at me, his wide hazel eyes—the exact same eyes as my father’s—searching my face for approval.
"Did I do good, Mom?" he whispered, his small voice cutting straight through my chest.
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A single tear spilled over my eyelid, but for the first time in years, it wasn't a tear of shame. It was a tear of profound, unbreakable pride.
"You did amazing, baby," I whispered back. "You saved us."
