Chapter 8 - The Aftermath
The legal proceedings moved with the terrifying speed of an avalanche once the federal white-collar division got involved.
Because Brandon and Gertrude had attempted to execute a fraudulent HELOC across state banking lines using electronic wire fraud, the local police department’s casual dismissal of "family financial disputes" was completely bypassed. Federal prosecutors took over the case within five days.
Brandon tried to beg for a plea deal, calling my office voicemail forty times a day until Marcus’s firm threatened him with harassment charges. His mother, Gertrude, was forced to put her own retirement condo up as collateral to pay for her criminal defense attorney after discovering that all her hidden accounts had been frozen pending restitution audits.
Hailey’s social media career imploded overnight. The live stream of her screaming in our hallway while the federal security guards removed her Louis Vuitton luggage went viral on TikTok, earning her the internet moniker "Crab-Legs Crusty" and destroying her brand sponsorships before she could even delete her profile.
I didn't watch any of it. I was too busy living.
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For the first time in eleven years, my weekends weren't consumed by managing Brandon’s fragile ego, catering to Gertrude’s endless demands, or working eighty-hour weeks to support people who despised me. I spent my Saturday mornings making pancakes with Skylar, teaching her how to ride a bike without training wheels, and watching her laugh as she zoomed down the driveway.
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