Lucian
“You can’t do that!” Martha finally shrieked, her voice ricocheting off the dining room walls.
“I can. And I am,” I replied coldly. “As of this moment, I’m cutting all financial support. You and my father are no longer my responsibility.”
Her face drained of color.
“I won’t pay the staff in the right wing anymore,” I continued, voice firm. “So hold on to the ones you can afford.”
She turned to my father, eyes wide, desperate for him to say something—do something.
But I didn’t care if he spoke. I wouldn't listen. Not anymore.
“And soon,” I added, “I’ll have the full report of exactly how much your wife stole from me.”
Martha stiffened. My father’s hands clenched on the edge of the table.
“When I do,” I said, “you’ll have two options: pay back every cent… or I seize the mansi
