Part 6
The ballroom cleared out within thirty minutes, the guests fleeing the scene of the scandal like rats from a sinking ship.
What was supposed to be a grand celebration of Patricia’s anniversary of running the foundation had turned into the public execution of her reputation.
The caterers silently packed away the untouched champagne flutes, leaving only the core family members in the cavernous, quiet room.
My father remained at the main table, his shoulders slumped, staring blankly at the white tablecloth.
Jenna had finally turned off her phone, looking terrified as she realized her own mother was currently in the back of a police cruiser.
I stood by the podium, neatly packing the certified documents back into Grandma Grace’s envelope.
“Myra,” my father’s voice cracked across the empty room.
He stood up, walking toward the stage with slow, hesitant steps.
“I didn't know... I swear to you, I didn't know she went that far. I thought the money was just being moved for tax purposes, exactly like she said.”
I strapped the envelope into my bag and looked down at him from the elevated stage.
“You didn’t know because it was easier not to look, Dad,” I said, my voice cutting through his excuses. “When she made me sleep in the guest house after Mom died, you didn't look. When she took away my college fund and told everyone I was a financial burden, you didn't look. You just enjoyed the comfort her lies provided.”
“I’m your father, Myra,” he pleaded, reaching a hand out, though he didn’t dare touch me. “We can fix this. We can sit down with Theodore and figure out how to manage the estate together. The family name can still recover from this.”
“The family name is fine,” I said, stepping down from the stage and passing right by him. “But your involvement in it is finished. Grandma Grace left strict instructions regarding your position in the company.”
Mr. Whitman stepped forward, pulling a separate document from his briefcase.
“Richard,” Mr. Whitman said formally, “per the clauses of your late mother’s primary will, your voting shares in the Anderson Group have been completely revoked due to negligence and failure to uphold fiduciary duties. You are being placed on an involuntary, non-voting retirement status.”
My father looked as though he had been hit by a physical blow.
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“You’re cutting me out?” he whispered.
“Grandma didn’t cut you out,” I said, opening the heavy doors of the ballroom to leave. “You cut yourself out the moment you let Patricia treat me like an outsider in my own home. Enjoy your retirement, Dad.”
