I step closer, my voice shaking. “So you took my money and made my parents beg you for it.”
He shrugs. “They were helpless.”
That word hits me like a knife.
Because all these years, I pictured my parents living comfortably, grateful, proud of me.
Instead, they were hostages.
Lucy suddenly speaks, so softly I almost miss it.
“He locks the pantry,” she whispers.
I turn toward her, my heart pounding. “What?”
She glances at my mother like she’s asking permission to speak. My mother covers her mouth, shaking her head in fear.
But Lucy is tired of being afraid.
“He locks the food,” she repeats, a little louder. “And he says Grandma has to ask.”
My stomach twists into something sharp and sick.
Travis snaps, “Shut up, Lucy!”
She flinches and shrinks back.
That’s it.
Something in me goes quiet.
Not calm.
Focused.
I lift my phone and call 911. I put it on speaker.
My eyes never leave Travis.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks.
I speak clearly. “I need deputies at my parents’ address,” I say. “There’s elder abuse, financial fraud, and a child in danger.”
Travis’s face drains of color. He lunges again, but I step back, and this time I’m done being polite.