Chapter 5 - The Morning Light
I parked a quarter-mile down the county road and walked the rest of the way to the farmhouse through the tall, dew-soaked grass. The sun was just beginning to break over the horizon, casting long, bloody streaks of orange across the property my grandfather had built.
Through the kitchen window, I could see them.
Claire was wearing jeans and a sweater, packing expensive silverware into a cardboard box. Seth was sitting at the table, casually scrolling through his phone, a cup of coffee in his hand—just like the day he broke our father’s face.
I walked up the porch steps. I didn't bother knocking. I opened the front door and stepped inside.
Claire dropped a silver spoon. It clattered loudly against the hardwood floor.
Seth stood up slowly, his phone slipping into his pocket. He was taller than me, heavier, but he looked at my combat boots and the rigid set of my shoulders, and the arrogance drained right out of his eyes.
“Daniel,” Seth said, forcing a tight, artificial smile. “We thought you were at the hospital. Claire was just telling me about the misunderstanding with Mom and Dad.”
“Pack your bags, Claire,” I said, ignoring him.
Claire crossed her arms defensively, retreating behind the kitchen island. “I told you last night, Daniel. You don't own this house anymore. The police will be here any minute to remove you for trespassing.”
“The police are already on their way,” I replied, pulling the stack of printed LLC documents from my jacket. I tossed them onto the granite counter. “But they aren't coming for me.”
Claire frowned, looking down at the papers. “What is this?”
“That’s the ownership structure for Oak Creek Holdings,” I said. “The company you sold my family’s farm to.”
Seth lunged toward the counter. “Don’t look at that, Claire, it’s fake—”
I stepped into Seth’s path, driving the heel of my palm hard into his sternum. The blow knocked the wind out of him, sending him crashing backward into the refrigerator.
Claire grabbed the papers. Her eyes darted across the highlighted lines. She saw Seth’s name listed as the sole proprietor of the shell company. She saw the secondary contract for the Vanguard Logistics flip.
“Three million dollars?” Claire whispered, her voice trembling as the betrayal registered. She looked up at Seth, who was gasping for air against the fridge. “You told me the buyer was offering four hundred thousand. You said we were splitting it. You made me sign the transfer to Oak Creek!”
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“You starved two elderly people and locked them in a chicken coop for two hundred grand,” I told her, my voice dead and cold. “While the man you were sleeping with stole three million right out from under you.”
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