Chapter 1
“Your brother has been on the verge of bankruptcy for almost ten years, so do not be cruel and stop asking him for money,” Liam said, unaware that Isaac had just reviewed the bank transfers and had concrete proof that thirty-five thousand dollars had disappeared every single month.
Isaac Perkins returned to Phoenix after nearly a decade of living in San Antonio, where he had built a successful chain of senior living residences. Although his work had consumed most of his time, he never stopped sending funds back home to his parents, Samuel and Teresa. Every transaction carried the exact same memo line, reading, “Medicine, food, and housing.”
Teresa had tried calling her son many times over the years, but his phone was almost always switched off. Liam, who was older than Isaac by just two years, kept reassuring her that there was nothing to worry about.
“I see our parents every single day, and they have everything they need right here,” Liam often insisted whenever the subject came up.
Isaac desperately wanted to believe his brother, hoping that everything was fine back home.
Before leaving San Antonio, Isaac had imagined a warm homecoming filled with fresh drip coffee, sweet pastries, and their familiar family jokes. He had even packed a gold watch for his father and a soft wool shawl for his mother, planning to announce that he had bought them a cozy home near Scottsdale. That was why, when he saw the cracked windowpanes and a rusty plastic bucket collecting rainwater dripping from the ceiling, he thought for a brief moment that he had pulled up to the wrong address.
When he stepped inside the aging house in the Pinecrest neighborhood, his excitement turned into overwhelming guilt. The outer paint was peeling off in large strips, damp spots covered the living room ceiling, and his father opened the door while leaning heavily on a wooden cane that appeared to be taped together with duct tape.
Teresa wrapped her arms around Isaac and began to cry softly against his shoulder.
“My sweet boy, you should not have spent your hard-earned money on this trip when you have so many financial problems of your own,” Teresa whispered gently.
Isaac slowly stepped back and looked at his mother in complete confusion.
“What problems are you talking about, Mom?” Isaac asked, narrowing his eyes.
His parents quickly exchanged a nervous, quiet glance before his father decided to speak up.
“Liam has been handing us your letters for years,” Samuel explained in a frail voice. “We know your company is buried in debt and that you can barely stay afloat, which is why we never wanted to bother you for extra help.”
Isaac felt a sudden chill run straight down his spine because he had never written a single word of those letters.
During dinner that evening, Isaac noticed a bowl of watery soup, four stale rolls of bread, and a small plastic bottle containing his father’s very last blood pressure pills. The gas stove was completely turned off to save electricity, and his mother was wearing two heavy sweaters just to keep warm inside the chilly room.
“Where is all the money that I have been sending you every month?” Isaac asked, looking straight at his parents.
Teresa frowned in deep confusion and lowered her spoon onto the table.
“What money are you talking about, Isaac?” Teresa asked back softly.
Before Isaac could answer her question, Liam walked through the front door carrying thin plastic grocery bags, wearing a very broad smile on his face.
“Brother! What a surprise to see you here!” Liam exclaimed loudly, setting the bags down.
Liam sat down at the wooden table, talking endlessly about mundane topics while actively dodging any direct questions regarding bank accounts. Every time Isaac brought up the topic of monthly wire transfers, Liam immediately shifted the conversation to something else. Isaac noticed that his brother kept glancing nervously at an old wooden cabinet sitting in the hallway.
Inside that cabinet rested a dusty wooden box neatly tied with a bright blue ribbon.
Late that night, long after everyone else in the house had fallen fast asleep, Isaac crept into the hallway and opened the box. He found dozens of typed letters bearing his name alongside a forged signature that looked almost identical to his own. Every letter delivered the exact same message, claiming that Isaac was completely ruined, that he could not afford to visit them, and begging them not to call his number.
A crisp bank statement appeared beneath the stack of forged letters. The very first line of the document read, “Authorization to operate account,” and the designated authorized person listed on the page was Liam Perkins.
May you like
At that exact moment, Isaac heard a faint floorboard creak directly behind him. Turning around, he saw his brother standing in the dark doorway, looking deathly pale with a brass key clutched tightly in his hand.
“Close that box right now,” Liam ordered in a harsh whisper. “There are things in there that our parents could never bear to know.”
