Michael choked on his breath, his face turning an angry shade of purple. “You lied to us! You sat there and told us you only had twelve hundred dollars a month!”
“I don’t lie, Michael. I am an accountant,” I replied calmly. “My government pension is exactly twelve hundred dollars a month. I simply chose not to mention the seventy-five thousand dollars a month I draw from my private trust investments. You assumed I was weak because I was quiet. You assumed I was helpless because I was generous.”
I turned away from him and looked directly at Sarah, who was now weeping openly into her hands.
“I gave you a sanctuary when your life fell apart, Sarah,” I said, the pain of her betrayal finally showing in my voice, though my resolve remained absolute. “And you allowed this man to treat me like a servant in the home I built. You forgot that the hand that feeds can also close into a fist.”
The front doorbell rang, a sharp, clear sound that shattered the remaining tension in the room. Through the frosted glass of the entry hall, the silhouette of a uniform could be seen.
“That will be the courier with your formal paper copies,” I said, picking up my coffee and walking past them toward the backyard patio. “I have a lot of reading to do today. After all, I’m retired.”
