Chapter 8 - The Financial Trap
"I'm not a liar, Lydia," I replied smoothly, switching the slide on the massive television.
The screen now displayed the official rejection letter from the commercial bank, dated yesterday afternoon.
"Garrison tried to forge my signature to mortgage my property to fund your pathetic catering company," I revealed, my voice vibrating with absolute, merciless authority. "But the bank flagged it as fraud, because Garrison doesn't own a single brick of this estate."
Garrison’s knees physically buckled. He grabbed the edge of the leather sofa, his chest heaving with pure, unadulterated panic as his entire extended family stared at him in disgust. Forging a signature on a commercial loan wasn't just a mistake; it was a federal crime.
"He was just trying to help his sister!" Patricia wailed, instantly playing the victim, trying to protect her golden boy. "You have millions! You should have just given her the money! You're a greedy, selfish bitch!"
"I gave her fourteen pounds of ribs today," I smiled coldly. "That's all she's ever getting from me."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out Garrison’s metal platinum credit card. The card he used to buy his expensive suits, his watches, and his country club drinks.
With a sharp, decisive motion, I snapped the metal card perfectly in half.
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"As of eight o'clock this morning," I announced to the dead-silent room, "every joint account is frozen. Every credit line is canceled. The gravy train is officially derailed."
👉 The parasites realized they were entirely trapped, and I was about to issue the final, devastating command.
