Dad appeared on the screen, seated at his workbench.
The crib behind him was still unfinished.
He looked older than I remembered.
“Chloe,” he said, “I’m sorry this is happening while I’m no longer there to answer for my part in it.”
My throat tightened.
Greg stared at the ground.
“Greg, I asked you three times to tell your sister the truth. You promised me you would.”
“Turn it off,” Greg said.
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He shook his head.
“Chloe, please.”
Ms. Richards allowed the tape to continue.
“Since you chose silence,” Dad said, “I’ve chosen witnesses.”
Greg covered his face with both hands.
Dad continued.
“Chloe didn’t abandon this family or ignore your invitations.”
Aunt Sandy stepped closer.
“What does he mean?”
“Greg changed messages,” Dad said. “He told Chloe you wanted distance. Then he told you Chloe did.”
Aunt Sandy stared at me.
“I called you three times on my birthday, before we sat down to dinner.”
“Greg said you’d gone away for your birthday. He told me that Dad told him.”
“I never left home, honey.”
Sadie’s voice shook.
“He told me you didn’t want to attend my wedding.”
I turned toward Greg.
“You said she wanted immediate family only.”
“You are immediate family, Chloe. You’re the closest thing I have to a sister.”
I faced Uncle Nolan.
“Greg said Thanksgiving was canceled because you were ill.”
“We waited for you.”
“I made a pie,” I told Greg. “I sat at home eating it in my dinner dress because you told me everyone wanted to be with their families.”
“Then explain Aunt Sandy’s birthday. Explain Sadie’s wedding. Explain why everyone thought I stayed away.”
Dad’s voice filled the garage.
“I believed Greg at first because he made every lie sound like kindness.”
I stared at my brother.
He had not simply excluded me.
He had convinced me that staying away was an act of consideration.
“Don’t call Sandy. She needs rest.”
“Don’t bother Sadie. She’s overwhelmed.”
Dad continued.
“Chloe, Greg borrowed money from Sandy, Nolan, and Sadie. He gave them different reasons.”
Uncle Nolan’s expression hardened.
Greg moved toward the driveway.
I stepped in front of him.
“You’re staying.”
“Chloe, not here.”
“Dad chose here.”
Greg looked toward the relatives.
Then I understood.
He was not afraid of me hearing the truth.
He was afraid of everyone hearing it together.
I turned toward Aunt Sandy.
“What did he tell you?”
“That his roof was leaking.”
Uncle Nolan answered next.
“He said he had medical bills.”
Sadie swallowed.
“He told me he was behind on his home payments.”
I knew Greg owned his house outright.
I also knew the roof had been replaced two years earlier.
“You kept me away because I would’ve compared the stories.”
Greg’s jaw tightened.
“You handled Dad’s accounts. You always checked everything.”
“It started that way.”
Dad’s recorded voice filled the room again.
“Money wasn’t the only reason. Greg was afraid of being replaced.”
Aunt Sandy frowned.
“By whom?”
Every face turned toward Greg.
Joshua remained beside the doorway.
Dad explained that Greg resented Joshua helping with repairs.
The furniture had made that resentment worse.
Dad had asked Greg to help build it first.
Greg refused.
“I spent my whole life being the one Dad called.”
“He never stopped calling you,” Joshua said calmly.
“Then you showed up with your jokes and projects.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Joshua. Neither would you, Chloe.”
I walked to the television and switched it off.
The sudden silence felt heavier than Dad’s voice had.
Greg faced me.
“You always made me feel like the irresponsible one,” he said.
“You had the answers. Dad listened to you. Everyone trusted you.”
“I was simply the person most likely to notice,” I replied.
His mouth tightened.
“So, instead of changing what you were doing,” I said, “you removed me from the room.”
“I was trying to keep everything from falling apart.”
“No. You were trying to stop people from comparing your stories.”
“For five years?”
He looked down.
I studied the relatives standing behind him.
People I had loved from a distance because I believed distance was what they wanted.
Then I looked at Greg.
My brother.
The man who brought me coffee after Dad died.
The man who called himself my protector.
“You didn’t just keep me away from birthdays,” I said. “You made me believe I was difficult to love.”
“Chlo…”
“Every time I almost called someone, I remembered what you told me. I thought I was respecting their wishes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You were teaching them to doubt me while telling me you were the only person I could trust.”
Greg looked toward the driveway.
“I thought if everyone needed me, Dad would keep choosing me.”
“Choosing you?” I asked. “You were always his golden boy.”
His expression tightened.
“That’s what I told myself.”
Ms. Richards stepped closer, but I raised my hand.
I needed Greg to finish.
“Dad gave you space because he trusted you,” Greg said. “He checked on me because I kept failing. I turned that into proof he loved me more.”
That confession hurt more than any excuse.
“So, you rewrote the family,” I said. “You made yourself the center and pushed me out.”
He nodded once.
“Tell everyone the truth. Repay what you owe. Correct every lie yourself.”
“I will.”
“Don’t promise me. Put it in writing.”
Ms. Richards opened her folder.
“Byron already addressed the debts. The documented debts will be paid directly from Greg’s share before the balance is distributed to him.”
Greg stared at her.
“All of them?”
His shoulders dropped.
I faced him again.
“Until you’ve corrected the damage, don’t contact me unless it’s about the estate.”
“Chloe, please.”
“I need space.”
