She lives off our parents, my brother Anthony said to his inner circle in the back room of the port tavern.
Anthony burst through the swinging door of the port office, his face blotchy and slick with sweat. Uncle Dominic and Aunt Teresa sat at the worn conference table, reviewing bills of lading. The room still smelled of stale coffee and printer toner.
“She did this,” Anthony blurted out, pointing a trembling finger at me.
Dominic, a man whose spine was as rigid as the old pilings outside, looked up slowly. Teresa merely glanced over the top of her reading glasses, her expression flat.
“She brought him here, to take everything,” Anthony insisted, his voice rising. “Salerno. She’s been paying him for months, $4,000 every single month out of her own pocket. Funding him, to come after *us*.”
The lie hung in the air, a twisted reflection of the truth. He had overheard me telling Marcus about the wire transfers, my desperate attempt to cover his mounting gambling debts. Now, he was weaponizing my sacrifice.
“Anthony, that’s not what happened,” I started, stepping forward. “I was covering *your* debts, the ones you piled up at the tables.”
Dominic slammed his hand on the table. The coffee cups rattled.
“Silence, Clara,” he rumbled, his gaze fixed on Anthony. “What is he saying about Salerno?”
Anthony launched into his rehearsed tale. He painted me as a conniving outsider, returning only to seize what I believed was mine, using Salerno as a cudgel. He even cited my wire transfers as proof of my collaboration, not my futile effort to keep the family afloat.
“She’s been living off Mom and Pop’s goodwill for years, and now this,” he finished, wiping his forehead. “She sees the business, the $3.8 million firm, and wants it for herself. She’s working with Salerno to destroy us.”
Outside, through the grimy window, a black sedan idled by the main gate. Two burly men in dark suits leaned against the vehicle, their arms crossed. Salerno’s enforcers had arrived, a silent, menacing promise of what was to come.
Teresa finally spoke, her voice surprisingly cold. “Why would you be sending anyone $4,000 a month, Clara? And why would Anthony need saving?”
“Anthony took out loans from Salerno. Illegal ones. He gambled away more than he could ever earn,” I explained, trying to keep my voice even. “I was trying to keep the wolves from the door.”
Anthony scoffed loudly. “She’s always been unstable. Wild. You think she knows how to handle money? She probably lost it gambling herself and needed to cover it up.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed on me, the accusation solidifying. He didn’t want to believe his son was a reckless gambler. It was easier to believe the woman who had been gone for twelve years.
“Get out,” Dominic said, his voice quiet but absolute. “We will discuss this with Anthony.”
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