Chapter 5 - The Real Cost of Freedom
Later that evening, I sat in a booth at an old diner on the edge of town, waiting for Marcus.
He walked in wearing his work boots and a faded canvas jacket, looking ten pounds lighter than the last time I’d seen him, with dark hollows under his hazel eyes. But when he saw me, he offered a genuine, weary smile.
"Hey, Jake," he said, sliding into the vinyl seat across from me.
"Hey, man." I signaled the waitress for two coffees. "Thanks for meeting me. I know you're trying to put all of this behind you."
Marcus sighed, wrapping his hands around the thick ceramic mug when the waitress set it down. "I heard about Sunday. Belle called my sister, trying to fish for information. Apparently, the Miller family dinner turned into a war zone."
"I lost my temper," I admitted, looking down at the black coffee. "I shouldn't have thrown it out like a grenade over pot roast. But Mom was cornering me. Demanding ten grand. Acting like you were an abusive monster who abandoned Paige for no reason."
Marcus let out a bitter snort, shaking his head. "Ten grand? Is that what she told your parents she needed?"
I frowned, catching the inflection in his voice. "Yeah. She said she needed it for first and last month’s rent on a townhouse, new furniture, and legal fees. Why? Is that not what it's for?"
Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the laminate table, his expression hardening. "Jake... Paige didn't just sleep with Greg. Greg was my division supervisor at the engineering firm. Did she tell you that?"
My stomach plummeted. "No. She definitely left that part out."
"Yeah. Greg was married, too. When Greg’s wife found out, she didn't just file for divorce—she went to HR. Greg got fired. Paige got fired from her administrative job at the same branch. But that’s not the half of it." Marcus rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Paige was using my corporate card. She had secondary authorization for travel expenses when she was helping me coordinate regional conferences. She racked up nearly eight thousand dollars in personal luxury expenses, trying to impress this guy. Spa weekends, designer luggage, high-end dinners."
The puzzle pieces snapped together with horrifying clarity.
"The ten thousand isn't for an apartment," I whispered.
"No," Marcus confirmed quietly. "The firm offered not to press criminal fraud charges if the balance was repaid within ninety days. I paid my half of our marital debts, but I refused to cover her fraudulent corporate spending. Her deadline is next Friday, Jake. If she doesn't pay the settlement back to the firm, they're taking it to the district attorney."
I sat frozen in the booth.
Mom hadn't just been asking for a sisterly handout. Mom had been running an extortion scheme on her own son to save Paige from the legal consequences of grand larceny. And the worst part? Mom almost certainly knew.
"Does Dad know about the fraud?" I asked.
May you like
Marcus shrugged slowly. "I don't know what Paige told your parents. But your mom called me two weeks ago, screaming at me, telling me I was trying to send her daughter to prison out of spite. So yes. Your mother knows exactly what that money is for."
***
