Chapter 7 - The Family Alliance
Richard turned slowly to face Julian, his expression hardening into a mask of calculated disapproval. He didn’t offer a comforting hug or a sympathetic nod. Instead, he reached out and grabbed Julian firmly by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
“Shut your mouth, Julian,” Richard said coldly. “You didn't just have a ‘stupid argument.’ You assaulted your sister forty-eight hours after major abdominal surgery, and you did it while a school official was actively listening on an open line. You didn't just cross a line; you blew up the bridge.”
Julian shrank back under his uncle's sharp gaze, his lower jaw trembling. “I—I didn't mean for the cops to get called…”
“You never think, that’s your problem,” Richard snapped, before turning his icy glare back onto me. “Sarah, you’re reacting out of raw emotion. If you let CPS push this family counseling and behavioral assessment mandate through the state courts, they’ll appoint an independent evaluator. That evaluator will dig into every single aspect of your household income, your single-parent status, and your emotional stability. They could easily rule that you’re overwhelmed and pull Julian out of his private school entirely.”
My blood boiled. I took two sharp steps forward, putting myself directly between Richard and my children.
“Are you seriously sitting in my living room trying to gaslight me right now?” I hissed, my voice shaking with restrained fury. “My son physically attacked his recovering sister, he terrorized her over a tablet, and a state caseworker just threatened us with court intervention! And you’re worried about the family name?”
“I’m worried about collateral damage,” Richard retorted, his voice rising to match mine. “If Julian gets slapped with a juvenile delinquency flag or a mandatory state behavioral placement, his college applications are dead. His entire life is over before it starts. We need to manage this quietly, internally—not hand our private lives over to a government bureaucrat.”
“Manage it how, Richard? By sweeping it under the rug like you people always do?” I challenged, my fists clenched at my sides.
May you like
Before Richard could answer, a soft, terrified sound came from the sofa. Chloe was sitting straight up, clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her pale face as she looked between us.
“Please… please stop fighting,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I just want it to be quiet.”
