Chapter 4 - The Golden Boy's Mockery
On December thirtieth, my phone rang while I was folding laundry in our cramped apartment living room. The caller ID flashed: *Daniel*.
I hadn’t spoken to my brother directly since our father’s memorial service. I pressed speakerphone.
"Caroline," his voice boomed through the speaker, dripping with the arrogant condescension he had perfected over seventeen years of unearned wealth. "I’m only calling because Mother asked me to make sure you didn't do anything embarrassing."
"Embarrassing, Daniel?"
"Yes. Like showing up uninvited to the New Year's Eve Gala tomorrow night to beg for money. We have senators attending, Caroline. Real estate moguls from Manhattan. The mayor is giving a toast at ten o'clock." Daniel chuckled, a dry, dismissive sound. "Mother mentioned that your little girl made quite a scene on Christmas Eve crying over plastic toys. It was dreadfully lower-class."
I felt my jaw clench, but my voice remained velvet-smooth. "Emma was hurt because her grandmother went out of her way to humiliate her."
"Mother was teaching your kids reality," Daniel snapped. "You chose to marry a paramedic who left you with nothing. You chose to live in the gutter. Why should my son Tyler suffer because his aunt made pathetic life decisions? Tyler goes to Phillips Exeter. He has an internship lined up at Goldman Sachs. Your kids will be lucky if they finish community college."
"Is that all you called to say?"
"No," Daniel sneered. "I called to give you one last piece of legal advice. Starting next week, I’m formally restructuring Vance Global. I’m stripping your remaining minority token shares—what little dad tossed you—and absorbing them into my personal LLC. You’ll receive a buyout check for about twenty-five thousand dollars. Take it, sign the waiver, and buy your kids some second-hand shoes. Don't bother hiring a lawyer. You can't afford the paper they’d print a motion on."
"You're very confident, Daniel."
"Why wouldn't I be? I own the company. I run the city. And Mother owns the ground you walk on."
"Tell Mother I hope she enjoys her champagne tomorrow night," I said quietly. "Make sure she drinks the expensive vintage."
"Oh, she will," Daniel laughed. "We don't drink cheap wine in this house, Caroline. Happy New Year. Try not to freeze in that shack."
He hung up.
I set the phone down on the laundry basket. In the other room, Noah was sitting at the kitchen table, patiently helping Emma glue pieces of colored construction paper together. They were building a model of a logistics truck, just like the ones Arthur used to draw for me on napkins when I was a girl.
"Mom," Noah called out, noticing me in the doorway. "Look! I made the wheels spin with paper clips."
I walked over and kissed the top of his head. "It's magnificent, Noah. Your grandfather would have been so proud of that."
"Grandpa Arthur?" Emma asked, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes. "Did he have a big heart like you, Mom?"
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"He had the biggest heart in the world," I whispered, holding them both tight against my chest. "And starting tomorrow, nobody is ever going to make you feel small again."
***
