“Three years ago I won the lottery. Four hundred and fifty million dollars. After taxes, about two hundred eighty million. I put it behind a blind trust and kept working. I wanted to see who you really were when there was nothing to gain from treating me well.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I paid Mom’s credit cards. Eighteen times. Two hundred forty-seven thousand dollars.”
Another folder.
“I protected your job.”
Another.
“And Tyler—your debts, your lawsuits, the elderly couple you defrauded? That was me too. Every escape hatch, every miracle, every unexplained piece of good fortune. Me.”
Tyler had gone pale.
My mother looked less devastated than calculating, which somehow hurt less than it should have because it was exactly what I expected.
My father lifted a trembling hand. “Son, if we had known—”
“Would it have mattered?” I asked. “Would you have treated me with respect if I’d been poor forever? Would you have loved me in that basement? Or only in this suit?”
No answer.
I handed the foreclosure envelope to my mother.
“You have three days to vacate. The mortgage is due.”
I nodded toward Holloway.
“And Robert, you’re terminated effective immediately.”
Tyler found his voice in a burst.