Chapter 12 - The Unraveling
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"I didn't do anything!" Derek yelled, raking a hand through his hair, his perfect, polished facade completely shattering. "I threw a cup of coffee! It was an accident!"
"The lawyer's letter says second-degree burns, Derek!" Suzanne stepped back from him, her eyes wide. She was incredibly selfish, but even she knew when a sinking ship was going down. "And it says they have audio! Did you record yourself?"
"No! I don't know how they have audio!" Derek paced the kitchen frantically. He looked at his phone. "I have to call my bank. I have to hire a lawyer to fight this."
He dialed his personal bank's customer service line. After five agonizing minutes on hold, a representative informed him that the joint savings account had been closed by the primary account holder, and the balance of his personal checking account was negative three hundred dollars, due to several automated bills hitting earlier that morning.
"I have no money," Derek said, dropping the phone onto the counter. "She took everything. She took the savings."
"What do you mean you have no money?" Suzanne demanded, her tone shifting instantly from concerned sister to angry creditor. "Derek, my rent is due next week. You promised you were going to cover it! You said your bonus was coming in!"
"There is no bonus!" Derek snapped, the truth finally spilling out under the intense pressure. "I haven't hit my sales quota in six months! I've been using Skylar's salary to pay your rent and fund your shopping trips!"
Suzanne stared at him, her mouth open in shock. The illusion of her successful, wealthy older brother evaporated into thin air.
"You've been broke this whole time?" she asked, her voice dripping with disgust. "You attacked your wife, got yourself kicked out of a luxury apartment, and you expect me to what? Let you sleep on my couch when I can't even pay my own rent?"
"Suzanne, please, I need your help to pack my things before the cops get here," Derek pleaded, looking at the clock on the microwave. He had forty-five minutes left.
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"I'm not getting involved in a domestic violence case, Derek," Suzanne said, grabbing her purse and backing toward the door. "You're on your own. Don't call me until you get your money sorted out."
She turned on her heel and walked out the front door, slamming it behind her. Derek was left completely alone in the kitchen, surrounded by the physical and legal wreckage of his own making.
