The Handyman Husband Exposes the Corrupt Family Funding Their Lifestyles with His Wealth
“They thought I was asleep in my bedroom at the Collins estate, but I was standing in the dark hallway.”
I pressed the play button and set the phone on the mahogany table.
The speaker crackled for a second, and then my mother’s sharp, mocking voice filled the room.
*”You’re nothing but a pathetic, broke handyman, Daniel,”* her voice sneered through the speaker.
*”You can’t even provide a decent prime rib for Christmas dinner, let alone the life I deserve.”*
My father flinched slightly at the sound of her voice, his eyes dropping to the floor.
Then, Martin’s deep, gravelly laugh echoed from the phone, accompanied by the distinct clink of a glass.
*”Let the loser eat his cheap ham,”* Martin’s voice said, sounding thick with expensive scotch.
*”As long as the wire transfers from the construction accounts keep clearing into our offshore fund, he can play house all he wants.”*
*”Just make sure he doesn’t check the quarterly ledger before the new year, Claire.”*
Mr. Harrison’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward so quickly his chair squeaked against the floor.