Of course he had.
Brian never apologized when he could reorganize the problem instead.
“Did he mention the rentals?”
Another pause.
“You should ask your own attorney that question after reviewing the documents.”
When the call ended, I had thirteen missed calls.
The fourteenth came from Jared.
I answered.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
No hello.
No apology.
Just fear.
“I stopped paying a bill for a house I wasn’t welcome in.”
“You can’t just do that.”
“Apparently I can.”
“Dad says the bank is asking questions.”
“Then answer them.”
His voice dropped.
“You hired someone.”
That was not a question.
I looked at the folder.
“Why is the house being rented through Jared Ventures?”
Silence.
I heard a door close on his end.
Then he said, “It’s not what you think.”
There are sentences guilty people and innocent people both use.
That is one of them.
“What do I think?”
“We were creating revenue.
Dad needed help.
The property costs money.
Taxes, utilities, upkeep.
I built a system so it could support itself.”
“Then why was I still paying $3,500 every month?”
“Because the income wasn’t consistent.”
“David estimates more than $150,000 last year.”
Jared stopped breathing for a second.
That told me more than his explanation had.
“David who?”
“The accountant who has the records.”
“Morgan, listen to me.
Don’t send anything else to anyone.
This can be fixed inside the family.”
There it was.
Inside the family.
The same family that had just explained there wasn’t room for me.
“I’m suddenly family again?”
“Don’t turn this into some emotional revenge thing.”
I actually smiled.
“You turned the house into a business.
Dad turned my payment into working capital.
And both of you decided I was too inconvenient to invite.
I’m not making it emotional.
I’m making it documented.”
He cursed under his breath.
“Do you understand what could happen if the lender gets nervous?”
