My Cult-Leader Brother Called Me A Lowly Flu-Shot Nurse At Our Council Luncheon — Then A Two-Star General Saluted Me As Colonel
Caleb’s external digital access had been severed. My override had worked. The fury on his face was volcanic as he realized he was cut off, unable to complete his planned transfers or sell my patents.
He stormed through the enclave, bypassing his office entirely. He knew he had a finite window. His next target: the central safe, a massive vault hidden beneath the Elder Council’s chamber.
He tried the digital keypad, but it flashed an error message. My override had locked down that too.
Caleb roared in frustration. He grabbed a heavy ceremonial staff from the wall and began smashing at the ornate wooden paneling next to the safe door, revealing a heavy metal lever and a manual crank mechanism. He knew the analog override.
He began frantically cranking the wheel, sweat beading on his forehead. He had to get to the five hundred thousand dollars in physical bearer bonds stored within. His escape fund.
The heavy door groaned, slowly unsealing.
“Caleb! What are you doing?”
Elder Thomas Finch stood at the entrance to the chamber, his eyes wide with shock. He had heard the commotion, the frantic sounds of destruction.
Caleb froze, his hand still on the crank. He slowly turned, his face a mask of primal fury. His usual smug arrogance was gone, replaced by something raw and venomous.
“What am I doing?” Caleb snarled, dropping the staff with a crash. “I’m getting what’s mine, old man! Before this entire sham you built crumbles around us!”
Elder Thomas recoiled, his face falling. “This sham? Caleb, this is our life! Our faith! Our family!”
Caleb laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. “Family? Faith? This cult was always just a front, Father! A tax haven for your delusions, and a piggy bank for my ambitions!”
He gestured wildly, his arm sweeping the opulent chamber. “You think these people believe in your ‘new dawn’? They believe in tax shelters and exclusivity! You’re an incompetent old man who let Hannah outsmart him! Who let your own son steal from you for years!”
Elder Thomas’s face crumpled. The accusations, the raw venom, sliced through him. He reached out a trembling hand.
“How could you… you would steal from your own blood?”
“Blood?” Caleb scoffed. “You cast Hannah aside for her ‘apostasy’ without a second thought! You enabled my ambitions because I was the son who stayed! You were so blind, so devoted to your male primogeniture, you never saw the rot growing right under your nose!”
He pointed a finger at his father, his voice dripping with contempt. “You are weak, Father. And now, you have nothing left.”
Caleb turned back to the safe, his hands resuming their frantic work on the crank. Elder Thomas stood frozen, utterly broken by his son’s brutal confession. The foundations of his entire world, his faith, his family, had just been demolished by his own flesh and blood.
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