Chapter 7 - The Unravelling of Ryan
With Richard facing criminal indictments and Eleanor secluded in their foreclosed mansion, Ryan Parker’s world had turned into a living nightmare.
Stripped of his corporate title, his company car repossessed, and his credit cards canceled, Ryan wandered into a downtown coffee shop, trying to avoid the glare of the morning news stands that featured his father's face on every front page.
Sitting in a corner booth, he stared at his laptop screen. He had sent fifty resumes to mid-level management firms over the last ten days.
Every single response was the same: Application Rejected.
His name was toxic. The business community knew he was a fraud who had ridden his sister's coattails while his father laundered stolen trust funds to cover his failures.
His phone buzzed on the table.
He looked down, hoping it was a job recruiter.
It was his mother, Eleanor.
"Ryan!" she sobbed into the phone. "You have to come home right now! The sheriff's deputies are here! They're putting eviction stickers on the front gate! They're taking the furniture!"
"Mom, I can't do anything!" Ryan shouted back, his voice cracking with desperation. "I don't have any money! Dad’s accounts are frozen!"
"Call Olivia!" Eleanor pleaded frantically. "She’s the one doing this! Tell her you're her brother! Tell her we’re sorry! Ask her to give us enough money to rent an apartment!"
Ryan let out a bitter, broken laugh. "Call Olivia? Mom, she’s opening her own restaurant in Chicago next week! Arthur Harrison gave her a two-million-dollar partnership! She doesn't want to talk to us!"
"She has to help us!" Eleanor shrieked. "We're her family!"
Ryan hung up the phone, slamming his head down onto the wooden table.
For the first time in his thirty years of life, without his father's money, without his mother's endless coddling, and without his sister in the kitchen to clean up his messes, Ryan realized the terrifying truth:
He was completely, utterly useless.
He pulled up his messaging app, scrolling back through months of cold, demanding texts he had sent to Olivia over the years:
May you like
“Make sure my shirts are ironed.” “Don't mess up dinner tonight.” “Don't be dramatic.”
A deep, crushing wave of guilt and shame washed over him. He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks onto his keyboard, finally realizing that the person he had stepped on his entire life was the only reason he had ever had a platform to stand on.
