Chapter 4 - The Ultimatum
"What kind of phone call?" I asked, dropping my backpack onto the floor with a heavy thud. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
My mother stood up, her knees shaking so badly she had to grip the marble countertop for support. "It wasn't just a regular call. It was from the district supervisor at Child Protective Services. Your little stunt at the police station... it didn't completely disappear into the trash like your father thought. Someone higher up flagged the case notes because of discrepancies in the first social worker's report."
A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest, hot and sharp. "They're coming back? They know he lied?"
"No, Leo, listen to me!" My mother's voice cracked, tears spilling over her eyelids and tracking down her bruised cheeks. "They aren't coming back right away. They scheduled a formal, unannounced multi-agency review for next week. But your father... he found out through a contact he has in the municipal building. He knows they're sniffing around again."
"Good," I spat, crossing my arms. "Let them see the truth. Let them see what he looks like when he can't lie his way out of it."
"You don't get it!" She slammed her hand down on the counter, startling me. In all the years of our suffering, I had rarely seen my mother snap like this. "Your father isn't going to sit around and wait for them to tear down his life. He's cornered. And a cornered animal is most dangerous right before it strikes."
Before I could process the full weight of her warning, the front door swung open.
My father walked in, but unlike the previous days, he wasn't calm. His face was dark, thunderous, and twisted into an ugly snarl. He slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the picture frames on the living room wall. He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and marched straight into the kitchen, his eyes fixed entirely on me.
"You just don't know when to quit, do you, little man?" my father snarled, his voice dangerously low. He stepped right up to me, towering over my frame. I forced myself to stand my ground, though every instinct screamed at me to run. "I build a comfortable life for you. I put a roof over your head, food on your table, clothes on your back. And how do you repay me? By stabbing me in the back with a pack of social workers."
"You beat Mom!" I yelled back, the frustration and terror finally overriding my survival instinct. "You beat both of us! You're a monster, and you belong in jail!"
A vicious grin spread across my father's face—a cold, terrifying expression that didn't reach his eyes. "Is that what you think? You think some pencil-pushing bureaucrats are going to lock me up? Let me tell you how this is going to play out, Leo."
He leaned down, whispering directly into my ear.
"Next week, when those inspectors show up, you are going to sit right there in that chair, look them in the eye, and tell them that your mother and you made the whole thing up out of teenage spite. You're going to tell them that you fell down the stairs, and that your mother's injuries were from a cooking accident. And if you stutter, if you blink twice, or if you hint at the truth..." He paused, letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable. "...I will pack your mother and you into the car, drive us out to the middle of nowhere, and make sure neither of you ever sees civilization again."
My mother let out a muffled sob, covering her mouth with her hands.
"You wouldn't dare," I whispered, staring into his dead, pitiless eyes.
May you like
"Try me," he whispered back. He reached out, grabbing a fistful of my shirt, and shoved me backward against the kitchen wall. The impact knocked the wind out of my lungs. "You have one week to get your story straight. Until then, you are grounded to your room. No phone, no internet, no talking to anyone outside this house."
He let go of me, smoothed down his tie with chilling composure, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving us trapped in the wreckage of his threats.
