On My Birthday, My Parents Organized A Family Dinner With 100 Relatives Just To Publicly Disown
I saw my cardboard box of office supplies sitting in a puddle on the curb, dissolving into mush. My nameplate was floating in the gutter. I stood there for a moment, letting the rain soak my cheap gray suit. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of wet asphalt and ozone.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. It was dry. I didn’t open the Uber app. I didn’t call a friend to cry. I dialed a number that wasn’t saved in my contacts, a number I had memorized three years ago.
It rang once.
«Identify,» a distorted mechanical voice answered.
«Agent Tiana Jones. Clearance level five. Authorization code Omega Seven Zero.»
«Voiceprint confirmed,» the machine replied instantly. «What is your directive?»
«Activate the Omega Protocol,» I said, my voice cold and hard, blending with the thunder. «Targets: Marcus Jenkins, Serena Jenkins, Hunter Vance. Initiate immediate asset freeze and deep dive audit.»
«Acknowledged. The hunt begins.»
I hung up the phone. A black SUV with tinted windows, which had been idling down the street, pulled up to the curb. It wasn’t an Uber. The driver, a man in a sharp black suit, stepped out and opened the rear door with an umbrella.
«Good evening, Ms. Jones,» he said. «We have been waiting for your signal.»
«Take me home,» I said. «Not to the studio apartment my parents thought I lived in. Take me to the Sovereign.»
The driver nodded. «Yes, ma’am.»
I slid into the leather interior of the armored vehicle, leaving the dissolving box of my old life in the gutter. As the car pulled away, I watched the glowing entrance of the Onyx fade into the rain. They thought they had stripped me of everything. They didn’t know they had just handed me the weapon I needed to end them.
The ride to Buckhead was smooth and silent. I watched the city lights streak by on the wet glass. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Bianca.
Hope you like the walk. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of the Mercedes. Hunter says thanks for the car.
I didn’t reply. I just forwarded the text to a secure server.
We arrived at the Sovereign, the tallest, most exclusive residential tower in Atlanta. The doorman rushed out, ignoring the rain.
«Ms. Jones, welcome back,» he said, opening the door. «We didn’t expect you tonight.»
«Plans changed, Henry,» I said, stepping into the golden light of the lobby.
I took the private elevator to the penthouse level. The doors opened directly into my apartment. It wasn’t a home; it was a command center disguised as a luxury residence. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city. The furniture was Italian minimalist and expensive, but the centerpiece of the room was the wall of monitors on the east side.
I threw the soggy gray blazer onto the floor. I kicked off the scuffed pumps my mother hated. I walked to the wall safe hidden behind a piece of modern art. I spun the dial. Click.
I placed the soaking wet leather binder, my father’s $400,000 bill, inside the safe. Right next to it sat three other thick files:
File 1: Grace Community Church, Charity Fund, Embezzlement Evidence.
File 2: Serena Jenkins, Offshore Tax Evasion.
File 3: Hunter Vance, Real Estate Ponzi Scheme.
I had been building these files for three years. I was not a low-level accountant at Sterling & Associates. That was my cover. I was a Ghost Auditor, a high-level forensic accountant contracted by federal agencies to infiltrate and expose complex financial crimes. My family was my assignment, though I had never intended to pull the trigger. I had held onto hope that they were just misguided, not evil.
Tonight, they killed that hope.
I walked to the main computer terminal and typed in my password. The screens flared to life, streams of data scrolling rapidly. Bank accounts, routing numbers, hidden shell companies. My phone chimed with a notification from my secure bank app.
Deposit received: $2,000,000. Reference: Case 902. Successful prosecution.
My bonus from the last cartel bust had just hit.
I walked to the kitchen island and poured a glass of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. I took a sip, the rich wine warming my chest. I looked at the rain battering the glass, looking down at the city where my parents were currently laughing, drinking champagne, and celebrating my destruction.
They wanted $400,000? I would give it to them. But first, I was going to take everything they had.
I sat down at the keyboard. «Let’s see how much that land behind the church is really worth,» I whispered to the empty room.
The next morning, the hangover of their victory was still fresh for my family, but for me, the war had just begun. At 10 a.m., my family was gathered at my parents’ mansion in Buckhead. I could see them through the hacked webcam on Hunter’s laptop, which he had foolishly left open in the living room.
They were eating brunch. Mimosas, catered eggs, laughter.
«So,» Hunter said, his mouth full of toast. «Now that Tiana is gone and Sterling fired her, she’s got no income. She’ll be desperate in a week. She’ll come crawling back.»
Serena laughed. «And when she does, we make her sign the rights to her portion of the grandfather’s land trust. We need that signature to sell.»
That was their plan. My grandfather had left a small plot of land behind the church. They thought it was theirs, but Grandfather had put it in a trust where all grandchildren had to sign off to sell. They needed me desperate so I would sign for pennies.
«We don’t need her signature,» Hunter said, wiping his mouth. «I’ve got a guy who can forge it. But first we sell the land to my development company for cheap. Then we flip it to the investors for 10 million.»
«10 million?» Marcus whistled. «The Lord is good.»
I watched them on my monitor, sipping my coffee. 10 million dollars. That was the game.
My phone rang. It was my lawyer, Mr. Cole. «Miss Jones, are we ready to execute phase one?»
«Do it,» I said.
Thirty minutes later, on my screen, I saw the doorbell ring at my parents’ house. A man in a suit walked in. It wasn’t the police. It was the family lawyer, Mr. Henderson, looking pale and terrified.
«Marcus, Serena. We have a problem,» Henderson said, not accepting the mimosa offered to him.
«What is it?» Marcus asked, annoyed.
«I just went to the courthouse to prepare the paperwork for the land sale,» Henderson stammered. «We can’t sell the land.»
«Why not?» Hunter demanded. «Tiana hasn’t signed yet, but we can pressure her.»
«It’s not about the signature,» Henderson said, wiping sweat from his brow. «The land isn’t in the family trust anymore.»
«What do you mean?» Serena asked, standing up.
«I checked the deed history,» Henderson said. «Ten years ago, on Tiana’s 18th birthday, your father removed the land from the family trust and transferred the deed directly to a single individual.»
«Who?» Marcus shouted. «Who owns my land?»
«It’s not your land, Marcus,» Henderson said quietly. «It’s Tiana’s. She is the sole owner. She has been for 12 years.»
The silence in the room was absolute. I watched Serena drop her glass. It shattered on the marble floor.
«That’s impossible!» Bianca screamed. «Grandpa hated her.»
«Apparently not,» Henderson said. «And there’s more. I just received a notification from the city. The owner of the land, Tiana, has just filed a petition to rezone the property.»
«Rezone it to what?» Hunter asked, his face draining of color.
«She’s donating it,» Henderson read from a paper in his hand. «To the city. For the construction of a permanent homeless shelter and sewage treatment expansion facility.»
«A sewage plant?!» Serena shrieked. «Right next to the church? It will destroy the property value. It will smell!»
«And it means Hunter’s development deal is dead,» Marcus realized, sinking into his chair.
I leaned back in my chair in the penthouse, watching the chaos unfold on my screen. They thought I was destitute. They thought I was walking in the rain.
I picked up my phone and dialed my parents’ home landline. On the screen, I saw Marcus stare at the ringing phone. He picked it up.
«Hello?» he barked.
«Hi Dad,» I said, my voice cheerful. «I’m just calling to let you know I’m working on that $400,000. But I might need to liquidate some assets. Like that dusty old plot of land behind the church. It’s not worth much, right? Just dirt.»
«Tiana!» Marcus roared. «You listen to me—»
I hung up. Phase 1 complete. Now let’s see how they handle the silence. I turned my phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode.
The notifications started rolling in instantly. 5 calls, 10 calls, 20. By noon it was 50 calls. By dinner it was 80. I sat in my living room watching the sunset, eating a steak prepared by my private chef. My phone sat on the coffee table vibrating incessantly like an angry insect.
