He truly believes it. He believes he is the savior. He believes he is the father figure I need.
I laugh.
It is a dry, humorless sound.
"You think I’m my father," I say. "You think I’m the boy who flinched when he raised his hand. You think I’m the man who beats his wife because he’s terrified of losing control."
I reach into my jacket pocket.
Pendelton flinches. He expects a gun.
I pull out the fountain pen.
I uncap it. The silver nib glints in the firelight.
"I am not my father, Arthur. My father was a brute. He used his fists because he lacked imagination."
I toss a thick envelope onto the small table between us. It lands with a heavythud.
"What is this?" Pendelton asks, eyeing the envelope.
"Your life," I say.
"I don't understand."
"Open it."
Pendelton hesitates, then picks up the envelope. He opens it. He pulls out the documents.
His face goes pale. His hands begin to tremble.
"This... this is illegal," he stammers. "You hacked my accounts."
"I audited them," I correct him. "Forensic accounting is a beautiful thing. It turns out, Arthur, that you have been embezzling from the firm for twenty years. Even when my father was alive. You were skimming from the pension fund. You were laundering money through shell companies in Belize."
"These are lies," he whispers.
"They are facts," I say. "And they are currently in the inbox of the District Attorney, the IRS, and the Bar Association."
Pendelton drops the papers. They scatter on the floor like dead leaves.
"I also bought your debt," I continue, my voice relentless. "Your townhouse in the Village? Foreclosed. Your portfolio? Liquidated to pay the arrears. Your membership at this club? Revoked as of ten minutes ago."
I take a step closer.
"You have nothing, Arthur. No money. No license. No legacy. You are going to die in a federal prison, surrounded by the kind of men you spent your life looking down on."
Pendelton stares at me. The arrogance is gone. The facade has cracked, revealing the terrified old man beneath.
"Silas," he pleads. "I was trying to help you. I was trying to preserve the family name."
"You were trying to control me," I say. "Just like him."
I signal to the doorway.
"Ivy."
Ivy steps into the light.
