Chapter 13 - The Price of Peace
Mom wanted a family meeting.
I refused twice.
The third time, Dad asked instead.
So I agreed on one condition.
Patricia would be present.
We met at my parents’ dining table on December 28.
Dileia arrived twenty minutes late with no makeup and swollen eyes.
She looked at Patricia.
“You brought a lawyer to Mom’s house?”
“You brought forged documents to mine.”
She sat down.
For once, nobody told me to be nicer.
Patricia placed three folders on the table.
“One concerns Caldwell Street. One concerns your parents’ home. One concerns funds sent to Northline.”
Dileia looked at Dad.
“You’re really doing this?”
Dad’s voice stayed low.
“You already did it.”
Mom started crying.
Dileia snapped at her.
“Stop. You wanted me to succeed.”
“I wanted you to work.”
“You always liked her better because she never needed anything.”
I almost laughed.
There it was again.
Need as entitlement.
Dependability as evidence that I could absorb more.
Patricia asked Dileia whether she signed my name.
Dileia stared at the table.
“Caleb prepared things.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He said nobody would get hurt if the sale closed.”
“People were already hurt.”
She looked at me.
“I was going to give you your purchase price back.”
I went still.
“My purchase price?”
“And keep the upside. You didn’t even need it.”
That sentence ended something between us.
Not because of the money.
Because she had reduced years of saving, overtime, and sacrifice to something I did not need.
Then Dad pushed a paper toward her.
“Sign this.”
It was a written acknowledgment that she had no ownership interest in Caldwell Street.
Dileia picked up the pen.
Then Patricia’s phone rang.
She listened for ten seconds.
Her face changed.
“Don’t sign anything,” she said.
“What happened?”
May you like
She looked at me.
“Someone just tried to record a lien against your duplex.”
