.
He was sixty-eight years old, with thick gray hair and the quiet, solid weight of a man who had spent forty years running a real estate office in Queens.
“This has gone far enough, David,” Uncle Robert said, tapping his mahogany cane against the floorboards.
I did not answer him, only rubbing the gold wedding ring on my left hand while Julian arranged his papers on the coffee table.
The parlor smelled of lemon furniture polish, the same scent it had carried since my father was alive.
On the wall behind my mother, a large portrait of my grandfather in his judge’s robes looked down on us with cold, painted eyes.
“Your mother cannot sleep,” Uncle Robert said, pointing his cane at Eleanor, who sat stiffly on the velvet sofa with her hands folded in her lap.
She looked smaller than she had two weeks ago, her aristocratic posture held together by sheer pride.
“The neighbors are talking because of those internet videos,” Robert continued, “and now Julian is sending formal legal letters to her home address.”
Julian adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses by the bridge, his expression flat and unreadable.
“The letters are standard legal notifications regarding the frozen assets, Robert,” Julian said.
“I do not care about legal jargon,” Uncle Robert said, his voice rising as he leaned forward. “I care about this family, and you are tearing it apart over a simple domestic dispute.”
My mother sat perfectly upright, her chin tilted high in the dim light of the parlor.
“David has always been susceptible to outside influences,” Eleanor said, her voice carrying its familiar, sharp cadence.
She did not look at me, addressing her words to the portrait of her father.
“He had a duplicate made at a shop in Queens,” Julian said. “We found the credit card charge for thirty-eight dollars on the fraudulent business account.”
My mother shook her head, her hand smoothing the fabric of her skirt with a quick, nervous motion.
“Mark would never do that,” Eleanor said. “He has too much respect for our heritage.”
“He has respect for nothing, Mother,” I said. “He wanted to use my name as a shield so he could pocket the application fees without any risk.”
“We can sell some stock,” Uncle Robert said, looking at Eleanor. “We can settle this before the January twentieth deadline.”
“The District Attorney has already issued the arrest warrant,” Julian said, leaning back. “No amount of family money will stop the state of New York from prosecuting a grand larceny case of this scale.”
Uncle Robert sat back in his chair, his cane slipping slightly against the rug.
“Is this true, Eleanor?” Robert asked.
My mother remained silent, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“He did not just steal your personal cash, David, he sold your name,” Julian said, turning to me.
“He needed the cash from my personal account to pay back his first three clients before they went to the federal regulators,” I said.
“This is all a fabrication by David’s competitors,” my mother said, her voice thin.
“The District Attorney does not act on competitor gossip, Eleanor,” Julian said.
“Why would Mark do this?” Robert asked, looking from Julian to me. “He has a beautiful home, a successful wife.”
“He has ninety thousand dollars in personal credit card debt and a tax lien on his car,” I said.
The parlor clock ticked twice, a heavy, mechanical sound in the silence.
“We can handle this privately,” Uncle Robert said, his tone softening as he looked at me. “If we pay back the deposits, can we make the charges go away?”
“The deadline for the civil response is January twentieth,” Julian said. “That is five days from now.”
“We can raise the money,” Robert said.
“The federal investigators are already auditing the visa business, Robert,” Julian said. “It is out of our hands.”
“You did this to us, David,” my mother said, her eyes suddenly wide and dark. “You brought these people into our private affairs.”
I took my phone out of my pocket and placed it on the table next to the laptop.
“Chloe called me an hour ago,” I said.
