Chapter 11 - Aunt Denise Finally Told the Truth
Before I went downstairs to face Dad, Denise called.
“I heard he’s at your office.”
“How?”
“Linda called me.”
Of course she did.
“What does he want?”
“Money.”
“I assumed.”
“Claire, there’s more.”
I almost laughed.
“There’s always more.”
“I should have told you before.”
“Told me what?”
Denise hesitated.
“The video wasn’t the first time they talked about you that way.”
I said nothing.
“It had been happening for years.”
That shouldn’t have surprised me.
Still, it did.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. A long time.”
“And you participated.”
“Yes.”
Her answer was immediate.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because it was easy.”
I appreciated that she didn’t hide behind alcohol this time.
“Easy?”
“You weren’t there. Your mother would make a comment. Ethan would pile on. We laughed. Then I’d go home and not think about it.”
“While taking money from me.”
“I know.”
“You asked me for six thousand dollars when Ray had surgery.”
“Yes.”
“And then laughed about me.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m ashamed.”
“That doesn’t undo it.”
“No.”
“But why are you telling me this now?”
“Because everyone wants to act like the video created the problem.”
She paused.
“It didn’t.”
Finally, somebody said it.
“The video exposed it.”
“Yes.”
I looked through the glass doors toward the elevators.
Dad was downstairs.
My family was unraveling.
And somehow Denise’s confession gave me peace.
I hadn’t overreacted.
I hadn’t misunderstood.
The contempt was real.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“You don’t have to forgive me.”
“I know.”
“I hope someday you do.”
“Maybe.”
That was all I could offer.
Downstairs, Dad stood near reception wearing the same brown jacket he wore to job sites.
My security manager stayed nearby.
“You didn’t need to involve security,” Dad said.
“You refused to leave.”
“I’m your father.”
“This is my workplace.”
He looked around at the marble lobby.
“You always were impressed by fancy things.”
I almost responded.
Then decided not to.
“What do you need?”
He hated the question.
Maybe because the answer was too obvious.
“The company is short.”
“I heard.”
“Payroll bounced.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I need forty thousand.”
There it was.
“Dad—”
“I know what you said.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because thirty people depend on me.”
That landed exactly where he intended.
My weakness had always been other people.
“This isn’t for me.”
“It’s your company.”
“It’s for employees.”
“Then show me the restructuring plan.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“If I gave you forty thousand today, what happens next month?”
“We have receivables coming.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“How much cash is owed?”
He became irritated.
“Why does this need to be an interrogation?”
“Because you’re asking for forty thousand dollars.”
“You have it.”
Again.
You have it.
As if possession created obligation.
“No.”
His expression changed.
“Claire.”
“No.”
“You’d let thirty families go without pay?”
“No. You made promises to thirty employees without enough cash to fulfill them.”
“You think that makes you innocent?”
“This is not my company.”
His face reddened.
“After everything I did for you.”
“What did you do for me, Dad?”
He looked stunned.
“I raised you.”
“Again, parenting is not a loan.”
He stepped closer.
Security shifted.
Dad noticed and lowered his voice.
“When did you become so cold?”
I felt tears rise.
I hated that.
“I became careful.”
“You used to care about people.”
“I still do.”
“Then help.”
“I can care without paying.”
He looked at me like those words were in another language.
Maybe to him they were.
I reached into my bag.
“I made a list of restructuring consultants.”
His expression twisted.
“I don’t need consultants.”
“You need someone who isn’t emotionally attached to the business.”
“I need cash.”
“And that is why I’m not giving you cash.”
I handed him the list.
He refused to take it.
So I placed it on the reception desk.
“You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe.”
“If my company dies—”
“It will not be because your daughter refused to fund it indefinitely.”
He stared at me.
Then walked away.
I cried in the elevator afterward.
Not because I wanted to change my answer.
Because saying no to someone you love can hurt even when it’s right.
That evening, Dad finally called one of the consultants.
I found out from Mom.
Three days later, they gave him the verdict.
The company couldn’t survive in its current form.
He needed to sell equipment.
Lay off employees.
Negotiate debts.
And possibly close.
Dad blamed me.
But the consultant uncovered something else.
The $94,000 private loan hadn’t gone into ordinary business expenses.
Almost half of it had been transferred to an account none of us recognized.
And when Mom showed me the account name, I recognized it immediately.
May you like
It belonged to Melissa’s mother.
Aunt Denise.
