I let out a dry, humorless laugh.
My mother looked down at her shoes.
“We would pay you back,” she promised.
“You haven’t spoken to me in eight months, you missed my wedding, and you let people say I sabotaged Isabelle,” I reminded them.
“It was all a giant misunderstanding,” my mother pleaded.
I opened a drawer, took out the folder, and placed the screenshots on the desk.
“It was not a misunderstanding, it was planned,” I said.
My mother turned pale.
“That is totally out of context,” she argued.
“Isabelle wrote that the family would have to choose, and you replied that I would always overcome it, so what context is missing?” I asked.
My father covered his face with one hand.
“You are right, and I am tired of this, Carmen,” he said.
My mother glared at him.
“Robert, do not you dare start with me,” she snapped.
“No, enough is enough, and our son is right,” he continued.
“We made him invisible his whole life because Isabelle always made more noise,” he admitted.
I stood still, as it was the first time my father had said anything close to the truth.
“I thought you were strong, and that you didn’t need us to take care of you, but that was just an excuse to neglect you,” he said.
My mother started to cry, but those tears would have destroyed me a year ago.
I would have hugged her and signed the check, but I was no longer that man.
“I am not going to lend you the money,” I said firmly.
My mother let out a loud, pathetic sob.
“Holden, please,” she begged.
“I am going to hire a financial consultant to review the shop, and if it needs restructuring, it will be done,” I said.
“If it needs to close, you will have to accept it, because I am not going to cover up deep problems with cash,” I added.
My father nodded slowly.
“That is fair,” he agreed.
“If you want to rebuild a relationship with me, it won’t be with empty speeches, but with genuine interest and respect for Catherine,” I said.
My mother was crying silently as she nodded.
“And what about Isabelle?” my father asked.
“If she wants to talk to me, she knows where to find me, but I am done chasing her,” I said.
Before leaving, my father stopped at the door.
“I am proud of you, son, and I should have told you that years ago,” he said.
I didn’t answer, I just nodded.
