Chapter 4 - The Family BacklashBy Wednesday afternoon, the news of Teresa and Mason’s arrest had spread through our extended family like wildfire. My phone hadn’t stopped buzzing for twelve hours straight.
At first, I ignored the calls. But then came a text from Aunt Betsy—the same aunt who had casually ordered Amy around like a servant at the birthday party.
“Connor, how could you do this to your own flesh and blood? Arresting your mother over a misunderstanding about property! We are all coming over to talk some sense into you. Open the door.”
I stared at the screen, a grim smile touching my lips. Come over? They think they can still bully their way into my life.
Instead of ignoring them, I replied with the address of my house and a single sentence: “The doors are open. Come on in.”
An hour later, I pulled my truck into the driveway of my home. Three family cars were already parked out front. As I walked up the front steps, I could hear shouting coming from inside the living room. They had let themselves in using a spare key my mother had given them.
I pushed the front door open and walked into the living room. Five of my aunts and uncles were standing there, looking like an angry tribunal.
“Connor Bradley! Have you lost your absolute mind?” Aunt Betsy screamed the moment she saw me. “Your mother is sitting in a jail cell because of your gold-digging wife! You need to drop the charges right now, sign the deed over to the family trust, and apologize to your mother!”
I didn’t say a word. I simply crossed my arms, leaned against the doorframe, and watched them with a cold, detached gaze.
“Did you hear me?” Uncle Frank stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “We are your elders! We demand you fix this mess before the whole family is disgraced!”
“Disgraced?” I finally spoke, my voice cutting through the room like a circular saw. “You’re worried about disgrace? Where was your sense of family grace when my wife was forced to scrub pots with a sick baby running a 103-degree fever while you all sat outside gorging yourselves on my dime?”
The room went dead silent. Aunt Betsy flushed defensively. “She’s a woman! It’s her job to serve the family! Your mother said—!”
“My mother is a criminal,” I interrupted, stepping forward into the center of the room. “And so are the rest of you, if any of you received property, cash, or gifts bought with the funds she stole from my household accounts.”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out a printed list provided by Marcus Vance.
“Let’s see here... Aunt Betsy, you received a ten-thousand-dollar check last month for your ‘home renovation,’ didn't you? Uncle Frank, your new pickup truck was financed through one of the fraudulent loans my mother took out using my home equity. And Cousin Chloe... oh, Chloe, your entire college tuition was paid using my son’s future college fund.”
The color drained from their faces one by one. The righteous indignation vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated panic.
“C-Connor... we didn't know!” Uncle Frank stammered, holding up his hands. “Your mother told us you gave her the money as a gift! She said you were earning so much you didn't even notice!”
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“Well, I noticed now,” I said coldly, walking over to the front door and pulling it wide open. “You have exactly two choices. You can either return every single cent, car, and item bought with my stolen money by tomorrow morning, or I add your names to the police report as co-conspirators in a federal fraud ring. Get out of my house.”
Without another word, they scrambled toward the door, tripping over each other in their haste to escape, leaving behind a stunned silence in the very home they had planned to steal.
