Chapter 3 - The Defiant Gathering and the Family Pact**
Rage boiled up inside me with such volcanic intensity that my vision literally blurred at the edges. Every scar, every burn, every deep-tissue ache on my arms from the brutal foundry floors in Calgary screamed for vengeance. I wanted to tear the house down brick by brick. I wanted to choke the venom out of my brother’s throat and strip my mother of every luxury my sweat had purchased.
Instead, I forced my breathing to steady. Screaming wouldn't save Phedra. Losing control would only play into their hands.
I ignored my family's screeching protests, walked straight past Marcus, and dropped to my knees beside my wife. I scooped Phedra into my arms—she felt impossibly light, like a bundle of dry twigs—and carried her past my mother's stunned face.
“We are going to the hospital,” I said, my voice dead, flat, and terrifyingly cold.
“You can’t do that!” Marcus shouted, stepping in front of the gate. “She’s a liability! If you take her out of here, you’re abandoning us! You owe us, Damian! We’re your family!”
“You abandoned your humanity,” I snarled, brushing past him with Phedra pressed tightly against my chest.
Selina rushed out, her face flushed with defensive fury. She pointed a shaking finger at me. “If you take that ungrateful, bald beggar to the hospital, don't you ever dare come back looking for a single cent of what we built! You think you're a big man because you worked in Canada? You left us for four years! You owe us everything!”
I paused at the edge of the driveway, gently shifting Phedra into the back seat of a neighbor's car I had flagged down. Then I turned slowly to face the little group of parasites who had devoured my youth, my savings, and my wife's health.
I looked at the scars on my forearms. I looked at Marcus’s expensive sneakers. I looked at the gold hummingbird necklace swinging from my mother’s throat.
“I worked entire nights. I spent Christmases alone in a freezing room so you wouldn't lack a thing,” I said softly, the quiet danger in my tone stopping Marcus in his tracks.
My mother sneered. “And we didn't.”
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I glanced back at Phedra, who was weeping silently against the car seat. “She did.”
Before Selina could fire back another insult, I reached slowly into the pocket of my heavy jacket and pulled out my smartphone. The screen lit up, displaying a notification banner from an international wire and legal trust service.
