Chapter 7 - The Collapse of Lies
Derek’s smile froze. Claire gripped the back of a dining chair, her knuckles turning white.
"Justin, really," Mother scolded, though a flicker of unease crossed her face. "Can we at least sit down—"
"Derek," I interrupted, staring directly across the table at my brother. "Did you bring the balance sheets I asked for?"
Derek took a slow sip of his bourbon, trying to project total control. "I told you, Justin. The accountants are finalizing the quarterly review. It takes time with multi-tiered development structures. Mom asked you here so we could agree on terms in good faith. We don't need a corporate circus between brothers."
"You don't have accountants finalizing anything, Derek," I said quietly.
I unlatched the briefcase. The brass locks clicked loudly in the silent room. I pulled out Marcus's dossier and dropped it onto the mahogany surface between our plates.
"What is that?" Mother asked, her voice faltering.
"That," I said, "is the reality of the Sterling development empire."
I opened the binder and began laying out documents like cards in a high-stakes game of poker.
"Here is the notice from the municipal court. The fifty thousand dollars Derek asked me for isn't for vendor payroll. It's a cash bond to keep him from being arrested for criminal tax evasion on Monday morning."
Mother gasped, her hand flying to her throat. "What? Derek, what is he talking about?"
Derek’s face drained of every ounce of color. He slammed his glass onto the table, spilling bourbon across the linen. "You spied on me? You hired someone to dig into my private affairs?"
"I didn't have to dig far," I replied. "It's all in the public record for anyone who knows how to read a court docket. And that's just page one."
I slid another set of papers toward my mother. "Here are the complaints filed by Dr. Henderson and Judge Miller. Derek took two hundred thousand dollars from each of them for a harbor project he doesn't own land for. He used Claire’s boutique account to funnel that money into personal debts."
Claire let out a sharp sob, covering her mouth. "Justin, stop! Please!"
"Stop?" I looked at her, my voice rising slightly, resonant and unshakable. "Five years ago, you two stood in my father's living room and told me that strength belongs to those who take what they want. At my father's grave, Derek whispered that I would always be the runner-up. You lived in luxury, bought clothes you couldn't afford, leased cars with stolen money, and paraded your 'victory' around town while I worked eighty-hour weeks to build a legitimate company!"
"Justin, he is your blood!" Mother cried, tears finally breaking through her makeup. "You can't let him go to jail! You have the money! You can settle this with the court! We can sell some of the furniture, we can—"
"He's seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in debt, Mom," I said, crushing her fantasy instantly. "Fifty thousand only keeps the handcuffs off him until next month. The rest of the creditors are filing involuntary bankruptcy petitions next week."
Derek suddenly lunged across the table, grabbing the lapels of my jacket. "You smug bastard! You think you're better than me? You were always Dad’s little workhorse, boring and pathetic! I built something! I took risks!"
I didn't flinch. I didn't push him off. I just looked into his bloodshot, terrified eyes with utter calm.
"You didn't build anything, Derek," I whispered. "You stole Dad's inheritance, you stole investors' money, and you thought you could steal my dignity. Take your hands off me."
Emily stepped forward, her voice freezing the air. "Touch him again, Derek, and I call the police right now. They already have a warrant; I'm sure they'd love an excuse to serve it tonight."
May you like
Derek slowly released his grip, his chest heaving, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. He stumbled backward into his chair, burying his face in his hands, completely broken.
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