Chapter 6 - The Crack in the Facade
The desperation of a prideful family is a loud, messy thing.
By mid-February, the rumors of Vanguard’s instability had leaked to the local business community. My sister Leah, whose entire social status relied on being the elegant daughter of a successful local mogul, couldn't handle the shift in wind.
She showed up at my office building, waiting by the elevators until I stepped out for lunch.
"Are you happy now?" she demanded, her eyes wide, her lipstick slightly smudged—a cardinal sin in our mother's playbook. "Dad is talking about selling the house. The big house, Clara! The one with the pool. Mom is locked in her bedroom crying, and my husband says if Vanguard goes under, our investment portfolio is wiped out!"
I walked past her toward the lobby exit, and she scrambled to keep up with me on her high heels.
"You did this," Leah accused, her voice rising to a screech. "You walked out on Christmas because you couldn't take a joke, and now you’re ruining all of our lives! You’ve always been jealous of me. Jealous that Mom loved me more, jealous that I had a normal marriage—"
I stopped turning corner and faced her. The lobby was bustling, but I didn't care.
"Leah," I said, my voice cutting through her panic like ice. "Do you know why Mom loved you more?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "Because I was a better daughter."
"No," I replied with a sad smile. "Because you were easier to break. You let her dictate your clothes, your hair, your marriage, and your morals. You sat there and laughed when she hit a seven-year-old boy because you were too terrified of losing your allowance to stand up for what's right."
"It was just a—"
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"If you say 'joke' one more time, I’m going to have security remove you from this building," I said. "I didn't ruin your lives. Dad’s fraudulent accounting did. Go home, Leah. Save your own house. I’m busy running my company."
She stood by the glass doors, looking utterly lost, realizing that the sister she used to look down on was now entirely beyond her reach.
