Three days later, the house still felt like a wound that wouldn’t close.
The air smelled like coffee and cold dust. My mother moved around the kitchen in slow silence. My father’s newspaper still hadn’t turned a page.
I was sitting by the front window, going through Khloe’s files for the hundredth time, when the doorbell rang.
The sound cut through the quiet like a blade.
I opened the door.
A man was standing on the porch. Tall. Mid-thirties. Gray hoodie under an expensive wool coat. And a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Morning,” he said easily. “You must be Lucas. I’m Tyler Morgan.”
The name hit harder spoken out loud.
He held up a manila folder and waved it.
“Khloe asked me to drop these off. Documentation of our investment. She figured it might clear up this whole misunderstanding.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I stepped aside.
“Come in.”
He walked into my parents’ living room like he’d been there before. Smooth. Rehearsed.
He spread glossy printouts across the coffee table. Charts with arrows going up. Photos of smiling artists. Words like community and growth in cheerful fonts.
“We’re connecting local creators with corporate clients,” he said. “It’s going to be huge once we close our next round.”
I flipped through the pages.
The numbers were nonsense. Columns that didn’t add up. Projections pulled out of thin air.
“Seventy-two thousand dollars,” I said quietly. “That’s what she gave you.”
He smiled.
“Invested. For development.”
“Development of what?” I said. “There’s no code. No team. No business license. Art Connect isn’t even registered as an LLC. Anywhere.”
He leaned back on my parents’ couch.
“Somebody’s done their homework.”
My father came down the stairs, squinting.
“And who might you be?”
“Tyler Morgan, sir,” he said. He stood up and stuck out his hand. “Your daughter’s business partner.”
My father looked at the hand. He didn’t take it.
“Business partner,” he said. “Or boyfriend?”
Tyler chuckled.
“I can be both. If you want.”
The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke.
Before I could say anything, I heard tires on the gravel outside. A car door slammed.
My mother looked up from the kitchen.
“It’s Khloe,” she whispered.
Specialty: Legal & Financial Drama
Michael Carter covers stories where money, power, and personal history collide. His writing often explores courtroom battles, business conflicts, and the subtle strategies people use when pushed into a corner. He focuses on grounded, realistic storytelling with attention to detail and believable motivations.