Chapter 6 - The Aftermath and the Auditing
By late afternoon, the family group chat—which I had muted but not left—was an absolute war zone of panic, accusations, and desperate voice notes.
My uncle Greg posted a message demanding to know why DeAndre was calling him from a police precinct downtown. My cousin Maya asked if it was true that I had "illegally sold a family house." My father, who had remained remarkably silent throughout the entire ordeal, finally dropped a short, grim message: “Cassidy, call your mother immediately. She has checked into the emergency room with chest pains.”
I stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment.
Then, I dialed my father’s direct cell phone.
He answered on the second ring, his voice sounding tired, aged, and hollowed out.
"She’s fine," Dad said before I could even speak. "High blood pressure flare-up. The doctor released her an hour ago. But she’s sitting in the kitchen right now, staring at the wall, and she won't talk to anyone."
"Is she okay physically?" I asked, my voice devoid of malice, carrying only clinical concern.
"Physically, yes," Dad sighed heavily. "Emotionally... Cassidy, what on earth possessed you to do this? Your mother genuinely believed that house was part of her legacy. She told all her friends that Brittany was moving in. She looked like a fool out there on the sidewalk this morning when the police threatened to cite them for trespassing."
"She looked like a bully who finally ran into a boundary, Dad," I replied quietly, leaning back against the plush leather chair of my hotel suite. "For five years, I built my life around paying for that condo while being treated like a tenant at my own family’s mercy. Mom used her co-signing as a leash. Well, I broke the leash."
"She’s your mother."
"And I am an independent adult who earned every single square inch of what I built," I countered firmly. "If Mom wanted a legacy, she should have built one herself instead of trying to confiscate mine to hand to Brittany and DeAndre—neither of whom has ever held down a stable job in their lives."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. The background noise of my parents’ kitchen sounded hollow and defeated.
"The sale went through?" Dad asked softly.
"Yes. Northwest Skyline Holdings wired the funds this morning. After paying off the remaining escrow balance and clearing all legal fees, I netted over two hundred thousand dollars in clean, liquid capital."
"And your sister?"
"Brittany and DeAndre are going to have to find their own apartment, just like every other young couple in this city," I said. "Maybe DeAndre will actually have to work overtime now."
Dad didn't defend them. He knew, deep down, that DeAndre was an opportunistic parasite who had leeched off my parents’ misguided favoritism for years.
May you like
"Are you coming home for New Year’s Eve, Cass?" Dad asked, his voice carrying a fragile, hesitant hope.
"No, Dad," I said, looking out the window at the glittering skyline of downtown Seattle, where my old condo was currently being prepped for its new corporate owners. "I’m flying to Maui tomorrow morning. First class. Paid for entirely by myself."
