I smiled thinly.
“My father loves an audience.”Fatherhood support group
By the time I left, Barry had been paid, the note had been legally transferred to my company, and everything was in place.
When I returned to the yacht, dusk had already settled in.
My family remained in the exact same spots as before, as if they had been paused while waiting for me to give in.
James had opened one of my wine bottles. My mother was flipping through a magazine. My father looked up like a man expecting results.
“Is it done?” he asked.
I let my shoulders sag slightly and softened my voice.
“I can move the money. But there’s an IRS issue.”
That caught their attention immediately.
“If I send it as a gift, it gets flagged,” I said. “It has to be documented as a debt purchase. Compliance needs paperwork and a short video statement saying everyone agrees voluntarily.”
My father scoffed, but greed outweighed his suspicion.
“Fine,” he said. “Do it.”
I placed my phone on the table with the camera recording.
Then I poured champagne.
We toasted.
They signed.
Not one of them bothered to actually read the documents.
