My Brother Mocked Me for Being Single at Thanksgiving, Calling Me the Family Failure—Then My Gorgeous Wife Walked In Holding Our Baby, and His Smirk Disappeared. / Chapter 6 / 101

Chapter 6 - Whispers in the Kitchen

Jason’s face drained of every drop of color, leaving his skin the shade of wet flour. The wine glass in his hand shook so violently that red cabernet sloshed over the rim, staining the pristine white tablecloth like a splatter of blood.

"That's... that's impossible," Jason stammered, dropping into his chair as if his legs had given out entirely. "You're making that up. Vanguard has forty thousand employees worldwide. You can't just know the Senior Managing Director!"

"He's family, Jason," I said quietly. "Just like you were supposed to be."

The atmosphere had transformed from tense to downright toxic. Nathan let out a soft yawn, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. Emily stood up, lifting him gently against her shoulder. "Brian, I'm going to take Nathan into the guest bedroom to nurse him and change his diaper. Excuse me."

With the grace of a queen departing an unruly tavern, Emily walked out of the dining room. Amanda didn't say a word. She was staring at Jason, her gaze burning with sudden, furious suspicion. "Jason? What internal audit? What was she talking about with the car lease?"

"Nothing, Amanda! Shut up for a second!" Jason hissed, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Don't you tell me to shut up!" Amanda fired back, her voice climbing in pitch. "You told me that lease was an executive perk!"

I shook my head, standing up from my seat to clear my plate. "I'll give you two some privacy."

I took my dish into the kitchen, the familiar smell of Mom's roasted herbs and burnt butter hanging in the air. I placed the plate in the sink, leaning my hands against the counter and taking a deep breath of relief. For years, every visit to this house had left me feeling like a ghost, an afterthought who had to scrape for scraps of affection while Jason basked in unearned glory. But standing here now, the illusion had shattered.

The kitchen door swung open, and Mom rushed in, her eyes rimmed with angry tears. She whipped the door shut behind her, leaning against it as if keeping an invading army at bay.

"Are you happy now, Brian?" she hissed, her voice vibrating with suppressed fury.

I turned around, crossing my arms. "Am I happy about what, Mom?"

"You humiliated your brother! In his own parents' house! In front of his fiancée!" She jabbed an accusing finger toward my chest. "You came here today with an agenda. You married some rich, high-society woman, had a baby behind our backs, and orchestrated this whole theatrical entrance just to tear Jason down!"

"Mom, listen to yourself," I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion. "Jason spent twenty minutes insulting me before Emily even walked through the front door. He mocked my life, my income, my relationship status, and called me the family failure. You laughed along with him. Did you think I was going to apologize for being happy?"

"He's your older brother!" Mom snapped, completely bypassing reason. "He works under incredible pressure! He needs our support! Do you have any idea what this will do to his reputation if what that woman said is true? If Marcus Vance-Sterling investigates him—"

"Emily didn't say anything that wasn't already in an audit report," I interrupted, stepping closer. "Jason got greedy. He lived beyond his means to impress a girl and to impress you, and now the bill is coming due. If he stole from his company, that’s his doing, not mine."

Mom's expression morphed from anger into desperate, manipulative pleading. She grabbed my forearms, her grip surprisingly tight. "Brian. You have to fix this. Call Emily's uncle. Tell him it was a misunderstanding. Tell him Jason is family. If Jason loses this promotion—if he loses his job—Amanda will leave him! Their wedding is in four months! We put a ten-thousand-dollar deposit down on the venue!"

I stared at her, feeling a cold, hollow ache settling deep in my ribs. Even now, standing face to face with the son she had discarded for a decade, her only concern was preserving Jason’s fragile facade.

"Where was this concern when my first workshop flooded four years ago, Mom?" I asked softly. "When I called you from the emergency room after cutting my hand on a band saw, and you told me you couldn't come because you were driving Jason to his tennis clinic?"