Page 4 of The Scrooge Effect

I stiffened instantly at the mention of my old man. “What about him?”

“It appears he left the house for you.”

“Yeah, I know. What about it?”

“The lawyer contacted me.” Flipping open a folder, he read the contents. “Apparently, he’s tried to get in touch with you for over three years.”

“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want anything from my father.”

“I understand, but it’s legally left to you. Even if you don’t want to keep it, you need to take care of it.”

I looked away from my boss’s searching look. The last thing I needed was a therapy session with Cash.

“He sent over the paperwork. All you have to do is sign it, and⁠—”

I shoved back from my chair, not interested in hearing anything else. “Yeah, well, I’m not signing for anything from that man.”

“He can take care of everything for you.”

“No,” I snapped. “Taking that house, even if it’s just to turn around and sell it⁠—”

Just talking about it brought back the memories of my father killing my mother. Of how I walked in on it after ignoring my mother’s calls because she always did that. And I always came to the rescue, only for her to get just as violent with my old man. I had been tired of their constant arguing, of the abuse that never ended.

So, I refused to go home, and by the time I did, he had just killed her.

And stupid me, I thought I killed him. For years, I carried around the guilt of knowing I had taken a life, and then wiped my prints and walked away. I thought I wasn’t good enough, that I was a cold-blooded killer, and it had twisted me into something I still hadn’t shaken.

But then I found out he was alive and well, and remarried. He came after my sister, my wife, and daughter… I had never been so relieved as the day he ended up in prison.

But now he was reaching out from the grave, pulling me back into his crap.

“Edu, you need to take care of this.”

“Just drop it, Cash!” I shouted, spinning around to face my boss. “No one fucking asked you to get involved!”

I wanted him to get pissed, to shout back at me. Maybe that would help me expel some of this energy thrumming through my veins, but he didn’t do that. Instead, he tucked his hands in his pockets and watched me carefully.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said calmly. “I know what it’s like to have all this anger, but it’s not good for you or for Harper and the kids.”

“Do not start with all that bullshit about killing your brother.”

That would have really riled him up at one time. He would have come at me and swung hard, doing whatever it took to knock me down. But this time, he just smirked at me.

“I’ve been there, too.”

“What?”

“Do you really think it’s going to work on me? I’ve made peace with my demons.”

“You ended it,” I seethed. “You had a chance to avenge your family.”

“You took him out⁠—”

“I sent him to jail,” I retorted.

“He died after a sad, miserable life rotting in a cell,” Cash reminded me, as if I needed the facts.

“That doesn’t mean everything’s fine.”