Chapter 7 - THE PRICE OF BEING THE FAVORITE
My mother was charged with murder, conspiracy, obstruction, attempted destruction of evidence, and kidnapping-related offenses connected to Rebecca’s confinement.
My father faced fraud, unlawful imprisonment, pension theft, forgery, and conspiracy charges.
Adrian was charged with kidnapping, extortion, attempted murder, and financial manipulation. His evidence helped expose my parents, but his revenge had created new victims.
Marcus survived with a minor shoulder wound.
For the first week after the factory, he refused to see anyone except his attorney.
Then he called me.
We met in a private room at the hospital where Rebecca was receiving treatment.
Marcus sat beside the window wearing a sling. Without the suit, title, and polished smile, he looked younger than thirty-seven.
“You own the hospital too?” he asked.
“No.”
He nodded.
“I didn’t know whether that was a joke,” he admitted.
“It wasn’t a very good one.”
“I’ve never been good without an audience.”
That was true.
Our parents rewarded performance. Marcus learned early that charm could erase harm. I learned that silence could reduce punishment.
Neither lesson created healthy adults.
Marcus looked toward the corridor.
“Have you spoken to Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“Does she hate me?”
“No.”
“She should.”
“She doesn’t know you well enough to hate you.”
He winced.
“What did she say about me?”
“That she remembers the way you held her finger when you were three months old.”
Marcus lowered his head.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “I knew the account in your name could destroy you.”
“Yes.”
“I told myself it was temporary.”
“You always tell yourself harm is temporary when someone else has to carry it.”
He nodded.
“I also knew Dad forged Grandma’s patent transfer.”
That confession did not surprise me, but it still hurt.
“How long?”
“Since I was twenty-six.”
Eleven years.
Marcus knew I owned the original patents. He knew our father had tried to steal them. Yet when Adrian suggested pledging the portfolio, Marcus agreed because he believed I would never discover it.
Or because he believed my success belonged to the family and therefore to him.
“I hated you,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because every time Dad called you a failure, I could tell he was afraid of you.”
I stared at him.
Marcus explained that our father followed my career secretly. He collected articles about Asterion’s early projects, studied my corporate filings, and tracked the company’s valuation.
He knew I was successful years before Christmas dinner.
“Then why keep humiliating me?”
“Because admitting what you built would mean admitting he chose the wrong child.”
The sentence revealed the real tragedy.
My father did not love Marcus more.
He invested in Marcus as a reflection of himself.
He diminished me because my independence challenged his authority.
Both of us had been used differently.
That did not erase Marcus’s choices.
But it explained why victory never satisfied him.
“Will I go to prison?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He looked startled by my directness.
“You cooperated, but you committed fraud, identity theft, and obstruction. You tried to destroy evidence.”
“Could you make it disappear?”
There it was again.
The old expectation.
Claire will absorb the consequences.
Claire will surrender the inheritance.
Claire will protect Marcus’s future.
“No.”
He turned toward the window.
“I thought you might say that.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because some part of me still thinks everyone should rescue me.”
I stood to leave.
Marcus called my name.
“I’m sorry.”
I stopped.
He continued.
“Not because I’m afraid. I am afraid, but that isn’t the only reason. I’m sorry for the place card. The account. Grandma. Every time I laughed when they hurt you.”
I looked back at him.
“An apology is not a door out.”
“I know.”
“It is the beginning of a room you have to stay inside.”
“I know.”
Outside, Rebecca waited in her wheelchair.
She asked whether Marcus wanted to see her.
“He does.”
She gripped the armrest.
“I don’t know how to be his mother.”
“You do not have to begin there.”
“Where do I begin?”
“With your name.”
Rebecca entered the room.
I watched from the hallway as Marcus stood awkwardly. He did not call her Mom. She did not call him her baby.
She said, “I’m Rebecca.”
He replied, “I’m Marcus.”
It was small.
But truth often began that way.
Naomi arrived with a new development.
Red Harbor’s board had removed Adrian. The firm would cooperate with federal investigators. Its claims against Asterion were suspended.
But another threat remained.
The flash drive Marcus tried to burn contained copies of Asterion’s private security architecture, client data, and emergency logistics systems.
Someone had downloaded it before Christmas.
The recipient was not Adrian.
It was my cousin Emma.
The quiet cousin who had stood near the Christmas tree with her hand over her mouth.
May you like
According to the records, Emma had been receiving payments from an unknown offshore company for three years.
And she had just disappeared with the only unencrypted copy of Asterion’s global access codes.
