“He doesn’t care about Dad’s legacy.”

“Rachel, shut up,” David said, taking a step toward her, his face turning pale.

“He doesn’t care about the house,” Rachel said, her voice rising.

“Tell her, David,” she demanded, turning to her brother.

“Tell her what you did.”

“Rachel, I swear to God,” David muttered, his hands shaking.

“He lost the business, Mom,” Rachel said, the words spilling out of her in a rush.

“He lost everything.”

The kitchen grew incredibly quiet, the only sound the low hum of the refrigerator.

I looked from Rachel’s desperate face to David’s pale, frozen expression.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“He didn’t just lose some money,” Rachel said, tears finally spilling over her eyelashes.

“He is facing total ruin.”

“The creditors are coming for his house, Mom,” she said.

“He needs Dad’s estate because he is completely broke.”

My grip on Rachel’s hand tightened as I looked at my son, who stood perfectly still in the center of the kitchen.

“David,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He did not look at me.