Chapter 4 - Masks Slip
Callie walked into Joel’s logistics company on Monday morning, dressed in a sharp blazer she’d pulled from the back of her closet. She didn't look like the niece who "never contributed." She looked like a woman who held a loaded gun, metaphorically speaking.
Joel sat behind a cluttered desk, his face flushing with irritation as she entered. "I told you, Callie. She’s your problem now. Don't come here begging for money to cover her expenses."
Callie set a copy of the medical report on his desk. She didn't say a word.
Joel’s eyes flicked to the paper. The color drained from his face as he realized what he was looking at. "Where did you get this?"
"Does it matter?" Callie leaned in, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I know about the gambling debts. I know about the forged power of attorney. And I know about the medication."
"You're hallucinating," Joel scoffed, though his hand shook as he reached for his phone. "She’s senile. Who is going to believe a crazy old woman and a waitress with a chip on her shoulder?"
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"I’m not relying on her word, Joel," Callie replied, turning to leave. "I’m relying on the forensic accounting I’ve already sent to the district attorney. You have forty-eight hours to hand back the deed to the house, or I stop being polite."
As she walked out, the office was deathly silent. Dakota stood by the glass door, her phone pressed to her ear, watching Callie with pure, unadulterated hatred. The war had officially begun, and Callie knew they wouldn't go down without a fight.
