My Cult-Leader Mother Stole $3,000 Monthly Meant For My Sick Son — Police Found The Cash Going To My 'Dead' Father
The crunch of gravel announced my truck pulling into the driveway of my home garage. I cut the engine, the sudden silence heavy in the twilight. As I stepped out, a figure detached itself from the shadows between the lumber stacks.
Silas.
He held a thick, manila envelope in his hand. His face was unreadable, but his shoulders were tense.
“Evening, Ethan,” he said, his voice flat. “Heard you’ve been causing trouble.”
“Where’s Sarah? Caleb?” I demanded, ignoring his taunt.
“They are well, in the care of the Fellowship,” he replied, but his eyes flickered. “Martha is… displeased with your recent actions. The frozen accounts, the police, the questions you’ve been asking.”
He took a step closer, holding up the envelope. “I have something you want.”
I eyed the envelope. “What is it?”
“Caleb’s complete medical history,” Silas said, a hint of triumph in his voice. “From his birth to yesterday. All the details the doctors at the hospital need to truly understand his condition.”
My breath hitched. This was the one thing the hospital still needed, full records from the compound’s infirmary to trace the poisoning and understand Caleb’s underlying frailties. Without it, their treatment was guesswork.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice tight.
Silas held out his other hand. “The bank deposit slip. The one Miriam gave you. With Tobias’s fingerprint.”
My mind raced. Martha must have realized Miriam was the leak. And she must be terrified of that slip.
“Why?” I pressed. “Why is it so important?”
Silas’s gaze shifted, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Martha is preparing to liquidate everything. The compound assets, the offshore accounts. She plans to disappear before the federal auditors arrive.”
My stomach dropped. Flee? After all this?
“She needs to prove that Tobias is truly dead to keep the authorities off her trail regarding the insurance fraud,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “That slip, it ties him directly to her. If you have it, she can’t claim ignorance.”
A grim realization dawned on me. Silas wasn’t just loyal; he was terrified. He was being used as a pawn, and now, he knew his mother was ready to abandon him and the entire cult structure she had built.
“She’s going to leave you here to face the music,” I said, a bitter edge to my voice.
Silas’s jaw tightened. “She says the Lord will protect her. That the faithful will be taken care of.” He looked at the envelope in his hand, then back at me. “Give me the slip, Ethan. And Caleb gets his records.”
It was a terrible choice. Trust my brother, who had just tried to strip me of everything, or risk my son’s recovery. My son’s life hung in the balance, dangling between my mother’s avarice and my father’s ghost.
“I need to know those records are real,” I said, my hand hovering over my wallet where the slip was hidden. “Let me see them first.”
Silas hesitated for a moment, then opened the envelope just enough for me to glimpse a thick stack of medical charts. They looked authentic.
The stakes had never been higher. My mother was running. And Silas, my fanatical brother, was betraying her out of self-preservation.
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