One I was finally ready to use.
Because I wasn’t the broken son anymore.
I was the one holding all the cards.
The next few days after Tyler dropped that envelope were a blur.
I went through every page line by line until my eyes ached.
The transactions were all there.
Thousands of dollars funneled from my dad’s business into personal accounts, Melissa’s mortgage, even Tyler’s freelance equipment.
Some of them, disturbingly, were under my name.
He’d used that joint account to move funds as if I’d been complicit.
I wasn’t angry anymore.
Not in the emotional, explosive sense.
I was cold, focused.
It was like every nerve had gone quiet and all that remained was strategy.
For years, I’d been the one who swallowed my pride for the sake of keeping peace.
But now, I had the receipts, the lies, the proof.
