Page 71 of Takedown

“Why is he here now?”

I sit next to her, but she moves so our bodies don’t touch.

I let out a loud breath, roll my eyes to the ceiling, and realize I have no choice but to tell her everything. “I’ve always known about them. For as long as I can remember, I’ve known.” She turns to me, her face shocked at my confession. “But they only found out about me last year. I guess one of them did some digging on our dead father and found a money trail to my mother. I told you he’s always taken care of me financially. He paid for expensive private schools and college. The calls started last May.”

“So, almost a year ago.”

I nod. “I answered the first call. It was a shock, really. I remember not knowing what to say. It wasn’t him that called. It was the girl.” I find myself unable to utter her name or our connection.

“You mean your sister, Elizabeth,” Mel clarifies.

“Whatever she is. She called. I told her I wasn’t interested and not to call again. Then he called and left a message. There were daily calls. Multiple calls per day. Letters, text messages, even a letter from their lawyer. A few months ago, he called. It was after we got married and you were in bed. I answered and told him to fuck off. That was the first time we ever talked. He texted a few days later saying he’d be in Boston this month and wanted to meet. I texted back no. The calls weren’t as frequent, but they continued right up until he showed up here this afternoon.”

She nods but stays quiet. Needing to touch her, I run the back of my hand on her cheek. She doesn’t move away, but I don’t get the reaction I want.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She searches my face as if I’m a stranger she’s trying to get to know. I take her hand and put it on my chest.

“I don’t like to talk about my father, and they are a part of him.”

“You’re a part of him too.”

“I said I don’t like to talk about him!” She gasps at my loud tone and pulls away from me. I stand up abruptly and start to pace the room. “That topic is off limits. Always. I’ve told you as much as I’m willing to share.”

She stands too, but she doesn’t cower. She closes the distance and points her index finger in my chest. “Well, the part of your life that’s off limits is in our kitchen.” She turns her back to me then, and I imagine she’s trying to gather her thoughts. I know her. I know this is far from over.

“Where did you get this?” she asks, pointing at the ring.

“Tiffany’s in Las Vegas.”

“So, it’s real?”

“You think I would put a fake diamond on your finger?”

“How much did it cost?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“I can look it up,” she threatens.

“Then look it up, but I’m not going to be the one who tells you.”

“That’s obvious. You don’t tell me a lot of things. If you’re not part of the Bradford fortune, how did you pay for this ring? And don’t tell me some bullshit about having a job.”

I take a deep breath and say, “He left me money when he died. I didn’t want it. Still don’t. I was going to give it all to charity, but Ma begged me not to. She said if I didn’t use it for myself, then save it for my children. I used some of the money to buy your ring. It was the first time I ever spent a penny of it.”

The room is eerily quiet after my admission. I open my eyes and she’s staring into my face as if she doesn’t even know me.

“Let me guess,” she finally says. “Fifty million dollars.” When I nod, she walks around me, opens the door, and walks out. I run behind her, but she runs down the hall and opens the front door. “I’m getting out of here. Don’t follow me. I don’t want to hear another word out of your lying mouth.” She grabs her purse from the floor, steps out, and slams the door so hard, the paintings on the wall shake.

“Mel!” I open the door, but she’s already at the bottom of the stairwell. With the snow falling, I know she won’t go any further than the apartment below. In fact, I’m convinced of it when I see her car keys on the floor. I slowly close the door and turn to face my unwanted houseguest.

He’s no longer standing in the kitchen. He’s sitting on the sectional, flipping through one of Mel’s bridal magazines.

“You need to go. I need to go find my wife.” I stand as far away from him as possible. I can feel the monster inside of me scratching to get out, and if I lay a hand on him, I might not be able to stop. He might be almost as tall, but I’m a trained fighter, and I’m sure he’s probably never thrown a punch in his entire rich, pampered life. “You people are all the same, do you know that?” I don’t hide the bitterness in my voice.

He stands, but luckily for him, he keeps his distance.

“You’re my brother, so you do realize you’re talking about yourself, right?”

---