Part 4: The Audit of Betrayal
There were no couches. No rugs. No television. Just bare floorboards and Gabriel sitting on a folding chair in the center of the room, holding his phone in one hand and the “WIDOWS” folder in the other. Lucas stood beside him, clean, wearing a new sweatshirt, looking his stepmother straight in the eye without a trace of fear.
Candice dropped her shopping bags, her face turning an instant, sickly shade of white. “Gabriel…? What is the meaning of this? Where is our furniture? Why are you back early?!”
“The Phoenix run was canceled, Candice,” Gabriel said, his voice dangerously low as he stood up. “Which gave me time to do some laundry. And some reading.”
Wyatt stepped forward arrogantly, adjusting his designer hoodie. “Hey, man, where’s my gaming setup? You can’t just move my stuff—”
“Shut your mouth, Wyatt,” Gabriel cut him off with a single look that made the teenager step back behind his mother.
Candice tried to force her usual charming, manipulative smile, taking a hesitant step toward her husband. “Gabriel, honey, whatever Lucas told you… you know how dramatic he is. He’s been hurting himself for attention ever since Clara—”
“Don’t you dare utter my wife’s name,” Gabriel interrupted, tossing the folder onto the floor at her feet.
The folder popped open, scattering the forged insurance policies, the hospice records, and the pawn shop receipts across the bare wood. Candice’s mother gasped, backing toward the front door, while Candice stared down at the paper trail of her four-year operation, her body trembling violently.
“You took out a policy on my son,” Gabriel said, taking two slow steps toward her. “You let your nephew strike him. You made him wash your clothes in the dark while you spent my hard-earned money in Miami. But worst of all, you thought I was too stupid to notice.”
