On My Birthday, My Parents Organized A Family Dinner With 100 Relatives Just To Publicly Disown
«Oh, thank you, Jesus, we found her!» Serena wailed, throwing her arms around my neck.
I stiffened, refusing to hug back. She smelled of Chanel No. 5 and desperation.
«You had us so worried, sweetheart. Why did you run off like that? We love you so much!»
Bianca circled us like a shark with a smartphone. «Look, guys, we found her!» Bianca narrated to her livestream, her voice dripping with fake concern. «My poor sister. She’s been having a mental health crisis, but the family is here now. We are going to get her the help she needs. Drop a heart in the chat for Tiana, guys.»
My father stepped up to the table, looming over me. He tried to look benevolent, but I saw the vein throbbing in his temple.
«Daughter,» he boomed. His voice projected for the back row. «Come home! We forgive you! We forgive you for the disrespect! We forgive you for the lies! Just come home and sign the papers and we can put this whole ugly chapter behind us.»
Hunter didn’t say anything. He just stood by the door blocking the exit, crossing his massive arms. He was the muscle. The threat.
I slowly peeled my mother’s arms off my shoulders. I stood up. I smoothed down my blazer. I looked my mother in the eye.
«You forgive me?» I asked, my voice calm and carrying through the silent room. «You forgive me for what, exactly? For not paying the $400,000 bill you handed me on my birthday? Or for not thanking you when you fired me from my job?»
Serena’s smile faltered. She laughed—a nervous, tittering sound. «Oh, silly,» she said, patting my cheek a little too hard. «That was just a joke. A misunderstanding. We were just trying to teach you a lesson about responsibility. But we went too far. We admit it. Now come on, the car is outside. Let’s go home.»
I looked at Bianca, who was zooming in on my face, hoping for a breakdown.
«Speaking of cars,» I said, turning my gaze to my sister. «Where is my Mercedes, Bianca?»
The question hung in the air. Bianca stopped chewing her gum. The phone in her hand lowered slightly.
«What?» Bianca asked, blinking.
«My Mercedes,» I repeated. «The one you took the keys to yesterday. The one Dad supposedly transferred to your name. I noticed you didn’t drive it here today.» I looked out the window at the oversized SUV they had arrived in. «Where is it?»
Bianca looked at Hunter. Hunter looked at his shoes. My father cleared his throat.
«That doesn’t matter right now, Tiana,» Marcus said, stepping between me and Bianca. «What matters is your safety. The car is safe. It’s… it’s being detailed. We’re getting it cleaned for you. A peace offering.»
I laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound that made the barista behind the counter flinch.
«You are lying,» I said.
Bianca bristled. «I am not lying,» she snapped, forgetting her sweet livestream persona for a second. «Why do you care anyway? It’s just a car. You can’t even afford gas for it.»
«Where is the car, Bianca?» I asked again, my voice dropping an octave.
Hunter stepped forward, trying to use his size to intimidate me. «Look, Tiana,» he grunted. «There was a little incident, okay? The brakes were touchy. I took it for a spin last night just to check the engine and… I hit a pole.»
«You hit a pole,» I repeated.
«It was raining,» Hunter said quickly. «The roads were slick. It’s not a big deal. It’s in the shop. I’ll pay for the repairs. Just sign the land transfer papers and I’ll buy you a brand new one. A Porsche. Whatever you want.»
Bianca nodded vigorously. «Yeah, Hunter accidentally crashed it,» she said, gaining confidence. «But it was barely a scratch. It’s fine. Stop being so materialistic, Tiana. It’s just metal. Family is what matters.»
I looked at them. The greed. The entitlement. The absolute lack of accountability. They truly believed they could take whatever they wanted, break whatever they touched, and talk their way out of it.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I tapped the screen three times.
«That is interesting,» I said. «Because according to the GPS tracker and the onboard computer logs, the car didn’t hit a pole. The car was immobilized remotely at 2 AM outside of Club Rain.»
Hunter’s face went pale.
«And,» I continued, looking at the report on my screen, «It wasn’t damaged in a crash. It is currently sitting in the police impound lot. Because it was reported stolen.»
«Stolen?» Marcus shouted. «Who reported it stolen? I gave her that car. I hold the title.»
«No, Dad, you don’t,» I said. «You held the title to the old Honda I drove in college, but the Mercedes? I bought that myself three months ago. And I registered it to Omega Holdings. My company.»
«Your company?» Bianca scoffed. «You don’t have a company. You file taxes for a living. You make 40 grand a year.»
I looked at Agent Miller in the corner. He folded his newspaper and stood up.
«That is what I wanted you to think,» I said to my family. «Just like I wanted you to think I was broke. Just like I wanted you to think I was weak. But the truth is, I have been auditing you for three years. And that car… that car is federal property used in an undercover investigation.»
Hunter took a step back. «What are you talking about?» he whispered.
«I am talking about Grand Theft Auto,» I said. «I am talking about unauthorized use of a corporate vehicle. And since you just admitted on a live stream with 2000 viewers that you took the car and crashed it, you have confessed to a felony.»
Bianca looked at her phone. The comment section was scrolling so fast it was a blur. People were asking if this was real. People were tagging the police.
«You set us up!» Bianca screamed, throwing her phone onto the table. «You witch! You set us up!»
«I didn’t set you up,» I said calmly. «I just gave you enough rope. You are the ones who tied the noose.»
I looked past them toward the door. Two uniformed officers walked in, followed by Agent Miller who flashed his badge.
«Bianca Jenkins, Hunter Vance,» Agent Miller said, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. «You are under arrest for Grand Theft Auto and destruction of property. Hunter Vance, we also have a warrant for your arrest regarding wire fraud and racketeering. Please place your hands behind your back.»
The cafe erupted into chaos. Serena screamed—a high, piercing sound that shattered the sophisticated atmosphere.
«No, you can’t touch him!» Marcus yelled, trying to block the officers. «Do you know who I am? I am Bishop Marcus Jenkins. These are my children. This is a misunderstanding. My daughter is mentally unstable. She doesn’t know what she is saying.»
«Ms. Jenkins seems perfectly lucid to me,» Agent Miller said, signaling for the officers to proceed.
Hunter tried to bolt. He lunged for the side exit, knocking over a table of iced teas, but he didn’t make it three steps. A plainclothes officer who had been sipping an espresso by the door tackled him to the ground. Handcuffs clicked. Hunter howled in pain and indignation.
Bianca didn’t run. She froze. As the officer grabbed her wrists, she looked at me with eyes full of utter betrayal.
«Tiana, help me!» she begged, her voice trembling. «Tell them it’s a joke. Tell them I’m your sister. You can’t let them take me to jail. I have a brand deal tomorrow. I can’t go to jail.»
I looked at her. I looked at the sister who had laughed while I walked home in the rain. I looked at the sister who had mocked my job, my clothes, and my life for 30 years. I leaned in close so only she could hear me.
«You should have thought about that before you took my keys,» I whispered. «And Bianca? Don’t worry about the brand deal. I’m pretty sure they don’t sponsor felons.»
They dragged her out. She was sobbing, mascara running down her face, kicking her heels against the floor. Hunter was dragged out behind her, cursing and shouting threats. Serena collapsed into a chair, hyperventilating. Marcus stood there shaking, his face a mask of purple rage and terror. He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
«You did this,» he hissed. «You destroyed your family. For a car? For a piece of land? Are you happy?»
I picked up my purse. I smoothed my blazer.
«I’m not happy, Dad,» I said. «I’m just auditing the books. And you are deep in the red.»
I signaled to the waiter. «Check please,» I said.
I paid for my latte. I paid for the broken glass. And then I walked out of Le Café, leaving my parents sitting in the wreckage of their reputation while the sirens wailed in the distance.
They thought this was the end. They thought the arrest was the worst thing that could happen. They were wrong. This was just the appetizer. The main course was coming on Sunday, and I couldn’t wait to serve it.
The interrogation room at the Atlanta precinct smelled like stale coffee and old sweat—a stark contrast to the lavender and money scent of my parents’ estate. My sister Bianca sat hunched over a metal table, her expensive makeup streaked down her cheeks in jagged black lines, making her look like a raccoon that had been caught digging through the trash.
She wasn’t live-streaming now. They had taken her phone, her purse, and her dignity.
I stood behind the one-way glass, watching her hyperventilate. Beside me, Agent Miller crossed his arms.
«She broke in five minutes,» Miller said, his voice dry. «She’s been screaming for her daddy, her lawyer, and her followers. In that order. She also asked if the mugshot lighting could be adjusted.»
I nodded, my face impassive. «Let me talk to her,» I said.
Miller opened the door, and I walked into the small gray room. Bianca’s head snapped up. When she saw me, hope flared in her bloodshot eyes, followed immediately by rage.
«Tiana!» She shrieked, jumping up. Her handcuffs clattered against the table. «Tell them! Tell them this is a mistake! Tell them the car belongs to Dad! Get me out of here! My skin is breaking out. I can’t be in here.»
I didn’t sit down. I stood by the door, smoothing the lapel of my blazer. I looked at her, not with hate, but with the clinical detachment of an auditor inspecting a fraudulent ledger.
«The car does not belong to Dad, Bianca,» I said, my voice calm. «I told you. It belongs to Omega Holdings, a federal shell corporation. And you were caught in possession of it after I reported it stolen. That is Grand Theft Auto. That is a felony.»
«It’s a family dispute!» Bianca spat. «Dad gave me the keys. It’s a civil matter. My lawyer said I’ll be out in an hour.»
«Your lawyer is an idiot,» I said. «But that’s not the worst part, Bianca. The worst part is the hit and run.»
Bianca froze. «What hit and run?» she whispered.
I placed a folder on the table. I opened it to reveal grainy photos from a traffic camera. They showed the black Mercedes screeching around a corner in the rain at two in the morning, sideswiping a parked delivery van and speeding off.
«The car was involved in a hit and run last night,» I lied smoothly. «The driver fled the scene. Since you admitted on your live stream that you had the keys and were driving the car, and since you were found with the keys today, the police are charging you as the driver. Leaving the scene of an accident, property damage, reckless driving, combined with the theft… you are looking at five to seven years in prison.»
Bianca’s face went gray. She slumped back into her chair.
«I didn’t drive it last night,» she stammered. «I didn’t. I was at the club. I took an Uber.»
«Then who drove it, Bianca?» I asked, leaning forward. «You had the keys. You bragged about it. Who else had access?»
«Hunter,» she breathed. «It was Hunter. He asked for the keys. He said he wanted to test the engine. He came back an hour later and said the car was fine. He lied to me.»
