Whistling

The air crackled with tension, thick as the smoke curling from the dying fire. Greg's skin prickled under the weight of his brothers' gazes, each one a laser beam of suspicion. He knew the question hanging in the air was a loaded one, a grenade waiting to detonate the fragile peace.

"Theodore," he began, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger, "this isn't the time or place for this."

But his father, Herbert, cut him off, his voice booming like a cannon across the clearing.

"Son," he said, his gaze unwavering, "you're a grown man, you're your own master. You don't have to answer to anyone…" He paused, taking a long swig from his beer bottle, the clinking echoing in the silence.

"But we're family, Greg. And family thrives on accountability. So, tell us, what did you do with two hundred million dollars?"

"He bought a property for her", Theodore said.

Theodore's pronouncement, like a stone tossed into a still pond, sent ripples of shock through everyone.

Greg heard some people in t