Chapter 4 - The Audi Gets Towed
Monday morning arrived with the cold, unyielding efficiency of a clockwork mechanism.
I was at my desk by 8:00 AM, reviewing structural engineering reports for a retail strip mall acquisition, when my intercom buzzed.
"Grant," Sarah’s voice came through, laced with quiet amusement. "You have a visitor in the lobby. Or rather... your brother is in the lobby, and there’s a flatbed tow truck outside your office window."
I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window of my third-floor office and looked down at the street below.
Parked directly in front of the building was a large flatbed wrecker with amber hazard lights flashing in the morning sun. Perched on the back of the bed, secured by heavy yellow nylon wheel straps, was Matt’s pristine blue Audi A6.
And standing on the sidewalk, arguing frantically with the tow truck driver while holding a lukewarm cup of coffee, was my brother.
Ten minutes later, the door to my office burst open. Matt didn't bother knocking. His face was gray, his hair wind-blown, and his designer jacket looked like he had slept in it.
"You did this," Matt hissed, pointing a trembling finger at me. "You tipped them off on my exact location!"
"Matt, I have three hundred corporate tenants in this building. I don't track your car," I said calmly, taking a sip of my black coffee. "Though I am impressed the repo agent found you so fast. They must have been tracking your transponder."
"They towed it from my driveway at 7:00 AM!" Matt shouted, slamming his briefcase onto the small visitor chair. "Erica was standing right there on the front porch in her bathrobe while the neighbors watched! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? Our next-door neighbor, Henderson, walked out with his trash bins and actually stopped to watch them winch it up!"
"Henderson is a retired accountant. He loves drama," I noted dryly.
"This isn't a joke, Grant! My life is falling apart! Erica is packing her bags to take Logan to her sister’s house in Virginia. She says she can't trust anything I’ve told her about our finances. She thought we owned that car outright!"
I set my coffee mug down on the blotter, leaning forward to look my brother dead in the eye.
"So you lied to your wife, too?"
Matt swallowed hard, looking away. "I... I told her the lease was fully covered through the end of the year. I didn't want her stressing out while she was trying to launch her online boutique."
"By setting her up for a public humiliation in the driveway," I said, shaking my head. "Matt, listen to yourself. You’ve built an entire house of cards out of lies, excuses, and other people’s money. And the moment someone pulls a single card out from the bottom, you scream that the whole world is victimizing you."
"I need a loan," Matt blurted out, his voice dropping into a desperate, pleading whisper. He leaned across the desk, pressing his palms together in a gesture of absolute defeat. "Just a short-term bridge loan. Three thousand dollars. I’ll sign a notarized promissory note. I’ll give you my golf clubs as collateral. Grant, please. My marriage is ending."
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"No, Matt," I said, my voice completely steady. "I’m not giving you a dime. Not because I’m punishing you, but because every time I bail you out, I teach you that consequences are optional. It’s time to face reality."
Matt stared at me as if I had just spoken in a foreign language. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel, grabbed his briefcase, and walked out of the office, slamming the heavy oak door so hard the glass panels rattled in their frames.
