Susan lowered herself slowly into a kitchen chair, her expression caught between shame, fear, and a hot, confused anger she did not know where to place.
“Kyle… tell me you did not do that.”
“I did it for all of us!” he shouted, his voice cracking under desperation. “I was going to multiply that money, I was going to pay back your father, I was going to get his house back, and I was going to make Chloe regret every time she ever looked down on me.”
“Get our house back?” Heather stood up, her face turning crimson. “You are the one who made us sell our grandparents’ property!”
“Because you wanted the money!” he yelled back at her. “Nobody forced you to do anything. You wanted to be rich, you wanted to stop relying on Chloe’s bank account. Do not try to play the innocent victim now.”
His words hit hard because there was no way to deny them. Susan began to cry, but they were not tears of remorse. They were tears for the comfort she had lost, the pride that had shattered, and the realization that her own son had used her just as cruelly as he had used my father.
“Kyle,” I said, my voice as sharp as a blade, “the land you bought actually exists. It is legally in your name. Congratulations. You now own five lots with no market value, in a region where the zoning permits have been stalled for a decade. Nobody is ever going to pay you eighteen million for that swamp.”
He stared at me with raw, undiluted hatred.
“You set this trap for me from the very start.”
“No, I did not. I presented you with a story, and you provided the ambition, the stolen capital, and the signature. You were the one who made the choices.”
“Rachel cheated me! She sold me worthless land!”
“Rachel sold you legal, documented property. She showed you the real papers, but you were too busy counting imaginary millions to actually read them. You didn’t investigate a single thing. You heard the word ‘millions’ and you ran toward it like a desperate animal.”
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