Chapter 6 - Blood and Boundaries
I left the diner with my head spinning. The sheer magnitude of the deception was sickening.
They weren't just asking for help; they were trying to make me an unwitting accomplice in covering up Paige's crimes. If I had written that check, the money would have vanished directly into a corporate restitution fund, and my family would have patted themselves on the back for managing to bleed me dry while keeping Paige’s halo intact.
I drove across town, my jaw set, not heading home. Instead, I drove to my parents' house.
The lights were on in the living room. Paige’s white sedan was parked in the driveway, tucked safely behind Dad’s truck. They were all there, huddled together like a fortress under siege.
I didn't knock. I used my key, pushed the front door open, and stepped into the foyer.
The television in the living room cut off instantly. Dad came around the corner from the kitchen, holding a mug, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Behind him, Mom emerged from the hallway, her face tight with triumphant smugness. She clearly thought I had come crawling back to beg for forgiveness.
"Well," Mom said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Look who decided to show up. I hope you're ready to make things right with your sister."
Paige stepped out from the guest room, wrapped in an oversized fleece blanket, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She looked like a wounded child, playing the part to absolute perfection.
"I just had coffee with Marcus," I said, my voice dangerously low.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The smugness on Mom’s face cracked, replaced by a sudden, sharp panic. Paige physically recoiled, pulling the blanket tighter around her neck as if it could shield her from what was coming.
"Marcus is a bitter, vindictive man," Mom said quickly, her pitch rising. "Whatever lies he told you—"
"Corporate credit card fraud, Mom," I interrupted, each word landing like an anvil. "Eight thousand dollars at the engineering firm. Spas, hotels, designer bags. A ninety-day restitution deadline to avoid felony charges."
Dad blinked, his brow furrowing deeply. He turned his head slowly toward Mom. "What? What are you talking about?"
I looked at my father. He genuinely didn't know. The realization hit me like a physical blow. Mom had kept Dad in the dark, too. She had weaponized him against me while keeping the ugliest parts of the truth hidden even from her own husband.
"Ask your wife, Dad," I said, pointing toward Mom. "Ask her why Paige really needs ten thousand dollars by next Friday. It’s not for a couch. It’s not for an apartment deposit. It’s to keep her out of handcuffs."
"Eleanor?" Dad’s voice was suddenly stripped of all its commanding authority. He looked at his wife of thirty-two years, his eyes wide with confusion. "What is he saying? You told me Marcus left her with credit card debt from his truck repairs."
Mom’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of crimson. "It was an honest misunderstanding! Paige was under immense stress! The company is just being vindictive because Marcus turned them against her!"
"I stole nothing!" Paige shrieked, breaking into hysterical wails. "It was an accident! The accounts were linked on my phone! Marcus did this to me! He's trying to ruin my life!"
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"You checked into the Ritz-Carlton three times with Greg, Paige!" I snapped. "You don't accidentally book a five-star suite with your husband's corporate card while sleeping with his boss! Stop lying! Just for once in your life, stand there and own what you did!"
***
