“Anticipating risks several moves ahead and acting first—that’s what I do for a living,” I said. “Your greed was easier to read than a bug-ridden program.”
My father’s face contorted. He pointed at me with a trembling finger, anger and something like fear fighting for space.
“So this was all a setup,” he choked out. “From the beginning.”
I met his eyes.
“Yes,” I said. “I didn’t gather everyone here tonight just to celebrate my new house. I invited them because I wanted witnesses. Because I knew you’d try to spin this as me being cruel, and I wanted the truth to be seen.”
I stepped past them, turning back toward the stairs.
“Every single one of you,” I added over my shoulder, “is about to watch you dig your own grave.”
My mother made a strangled sound behind me, half protest, half panic. Kristen muttered something furious. My father’s footsteps followed, but he didn’t stop me. He couldn’t. Something in my calm had unsettled him in a way rage never did.
We went back downstairs into the living room.