Chapter 5 - The House of Cards
The illusion of Eric’s perfect life shattered spectacularly on a Tuesday afternoon, exactly two weeks after the retirement dinner.
I was at my office, reviewing a new marketing campaign, when my assistant buzzed in. “Ms. Bennett, there’s a commotion downstairs. Security says your brother is in the lobby demanding to see you. He looks… unwell.”
I glanced at the security feed on my monitor. Eric was pacing wildly in the glass-walled lobby, his tie undone, his hair disheveled. He looked nothing like the smug man swirling expensive wine. He looked hunted.
“Send Marcus Vance down there,” I told my assistant. “And have security escort them both to conference room B. I don’t want him on my floor.”
Ten minutes later, I walked into the conference room with my lawyer by my side. Eric was sitting at the heavy oak table, his head in his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot.
“They locked us out,” Eric choked out, his voice cracking. “The bank. They seized the lake house, and they froze my primary checking account. Sarah’s car was repossessed this morning from our driveway. In front of the neighbors, Claire.”
I sat down across from him, crossing my legs, my expression entirely neutral. “Actions have consequences, Eric.”
“You have to drop the charges!” he pleaded, leaning across the table. “I’m going to lose my job. The company found out about the fraud investigation. I have kids, Claire! Your nieces and nephews! Are you really going to make them homeless over some money?”
“Some money?” Marcus Vance interjected, his voice sharp like a razor. “Mr. Bennett, you embezzled over $150,000, committed wire fraud, and forged your sister’s signature on tax documents. You are looking at three to five years in federal prison.”
Eric flinched as if he had been physically struck. He looked at me, desperation leaking from every pore. “Claire, please. I’m your brother. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll make a public apology. I’ll tell everyone on Facebook I lied. Just stop the lawyers.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “Do you remember what you said to me at the restaurant, Eric? When Noah was staring at a dry hotdog while your kids ate $120 steaks?”
Eric swallowed hard, unable to meet my eyes.
“You told me not to start drama. You told me he would survive.” I tilted my head. “Well, Eric. Now it’s your turn. Don't start drama. You’ll survive.”
“You’re a monster,” he spat, his sadness instantly transforming back into the bitter entitlement he had harbored his whole life. “You’ve always been a jealous, vindictive—”
Marcus cleared his throat loudly. “This meeting is over. Anything else you say will be added to the criminal complaint. Security is waiting outside to escort you off the premises. If you contact my client again, you will be arrested for violating the restraining order.”
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Eric stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor. He glared at me with pure hatred, but beneath the anger, I saw the absolute terror of a man who realized he had finally run out of runway. He stormed out of the room, flanked by two large security guards.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. The smear campaign was over. The truth was out. The house of cards had completely collapsed.
