Chapter 10 - The Golden Child’s Ultimatum
The neon sign of the 4th Street Diner buzzed against the gathering dusk. Rain had begun to fall, turning the dirty snow banks into gray slush.
I didn't bring Arthur. I didn't bring Claire. This was between the siblings who had grown up in the shadow of the same monster—one who had broken free, and one who had sold her soul for a seat at the table.
Kimberly was sitting in a vinyl booth near the back, wearing a designer camel coat, her hair blown out, looking like a carbon copy of Megan twenty years ago. She had a cold cup of black coffee in front of her and an unopened pack of cigarettes resting beside her phone.
When I slid into the booth opposite her, she didn't greet me. She looked at me with cold, disdainful pity.
"You look tired, Mark," she said, leaning back. "Must be exhausting playing the moral crusader."
"Cut the crap, Kimberly," I said, leaning forward, resting my forearms on the table. "You have twenty minutes before David Morrison files the amended felony indictments against Mom. What letters were you threatening me with?"
Kimberly let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "You always were Dad's little soldier, weren't you? Blind to reality. You think Mom is the only villain in this family? In 2010, before Dad walked out, he wrote three letters to Mom’s sister Beatrice, admitting he had an affair with his secretary. He begged Beatrice not to tell Mom. Mom kept those letters. I have them in my safe deposit box."
I stared at her, unimpressed. "And? Dad and Mom were legally separated for two years before their divorce was finalized. If Dad saw someone else, that was between two adults whose marriage had been dead for a decade. Do you really think a twelve-year-old marital dispute is going to protect Mom from fifty counts of wire fraud?"
Kimberly’s smirk faltered slightly. "It will ruin Dad's reputation. It will destroy whatever saintly image you have of him. The community will know he’s a hypocrite."
"Kimberly, look at me," I said, my voice dropping into a register of utter seriousness. "Mom didn't get arrested today for a family dispute. She got arrested because she tried to breach a locked school building to kidnap my eight-year-old son after being served a court order."
Kimberly rolled her eyes. "She wasn't going to kidnap him! She wanted to take him to lunch! She was trying to make peace!"
"By screaming that Claire was a tramp and trying to shove past an armed police officer?" I leaned in closer. "Do you know where Mom got the money for your down payment on your condo in Denver, Kimberly?"
Kimberly stiffened. "Mom gave me a family gift. From her savings."
"No," I replied, pulling a single folded piece of paper from my breast pocket and sliding it across the laminate table. "She took seventy-five thousand dollars out of Evan’s irrevocable trust fund on October 14th, 2021. Wire transfer #9914. Directly into your escrow account."
Kimberly stared at the paper. Her hands began to tremble.
"You are holding stolen money, Kimberly," I continued mercilessly. "Money that our grandfather left for Evan’s education. When the state forensic accountant presents this to the grand jury tomorrow, your name is on that wire ledger. You aren't just Mom’s cheerleader anymore. You are a recipient of stolen trust assets."
"I... I didn't know," Kimberly stammered, the arrogant color draining from her cheeks. "She told me... she said Dad agreed to give me an early advance on my inheritance!"
"Mom lied to you. She has lied to you your entire life," I said. "She used you as an accomplice so that if she went down, she could drag you down with her. Because that’s what Megan does. She burns everyone to keep herself warm."
Kimberly stared at the bank wire confirmation, her chest heaving. "What... what do you want from me, Mark?"
"Tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM is her bail hearing," I said. "The prosecutor is asking for remand without bail due to flight risk and the severity of the financial charges. You are not going to post her bond. You are going to hand over every document Mom gave you, including those pathetic letters about Dad. And then you are going to get on a plane, go back to Denver, and wire that seventy-five thousand dollars back into Evan’s trust."
"And if I don't?" she whispered, terrified.
May you like
"Then David Morrison adds your name to the criminal complaint by noon," I said, sliding out of the booth. "Choose wisely, Kimberly. You can be a Vance, or you can be Megan’s cellmate."
I turned and walked out of the diner into the freezing rain, leaving my sister alone with the paper that had shattered her illusions.