Chapter 6 - Exposing the Leeches: The Grand Revelation
"Therapeutic?" I repeated, my voice deathly quiet as I closed the distance between Jennifer and myself. I didn't raise my voice, but the sheer, crushing weight of my presence forced my sister to back up until her spine hit the brick wall of the mansion.
"Washing pots with raw, blistered hands for five years while you and mother play queen bee with my money is therapeutic, Jennifer?" I sneered.
Just then, the heavy glass doors swung open, and the music cut out abruptly. Attracted by the commotion, my mother, Margaret, and my younger brother, Michael, stepped out onto the patio, holding champagne glasses in their hands. They were flushed with wine and good food, wearing wide, smug grins that vanished the second they laid eyes on me.
"Liam?" Margaret gasped, her champagne glass slipping from her loose fingers and shattering violently against the concrete tiles, spraying expensive liquid across her designer shoes. "W-what is the meaning of this? Why didn't you announce your arrival? We would have rolled out the red carpet!"
"You've already rolled out quite enough carpets, mother," I said, turning my piercing gaze toward her. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a thick leather-bound folder containing five years of financial audits, bank statements, and wire transfer logs, and tossed it right at her feet.
Michael nervously stepped forward, his arrogant smirk completely gone. "Bro, what's all this? It's just a family party, loosen up! We've been taking care of things for you!"
"Taking care of things?" I laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of all humor. "You mean taking care of my bank accounts to buy luxury sports cars, designer clothes, and throw lavish parties for a bunch of freeloading parasites while my wife—the woman who stood by me when I had nothing—was treated like an absolute slave in her own home?"
Margaret’s face turned an ugly shade of crimson. She puffed up her chest, attempting to deploy her usual maternal guilt trip. "How dare you speak to your family this way! We raised you! We gave up our time for you! That woman is ungrateful, she drains your energy—"
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"Enough!" I roared, the single word exploding with the force of a thunderclap across the courtyard. Every single guest inside the house went dead silent, pressing their faces against the glass windows to watch the drama unfold.
"The party is over," I declared, my voice echoing off the brick walls. "Every single one of you has exactly ten minutes to pack your bags, strip off the designer clothes bought with my sweat, and get the hell off my property. If you aren't gone by then, I am calling the police and pressing federal charges for financial fraud, embezzlement, and unlawful confinement."
