Chapter 4 - The Eviction
I pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of my mansion at exactly 2:00 PM. I wasn't alone. I was flanked by two private security contractors I had hired an hour prior—massive men with stone-cold faces and zero patience for drama.
When I walked through the front door, my mother and Prudence were sitting at the massive dining room table, sipping coffee as if the events of the previous night were just a minor misunderstanding.
"David, darling," my mother said, forcing a tight, nervous smile. "I'm so glad you're back. We need to talk about Sarah. She's manipulating you. You have to understand—"
"Shut up," I said.
The security guards stepped into the room behind me, crossing their arms.
My mother’s smile vanished. "David, what is the meaning of this? Who are these men?"
I tossed a thick manila folder onto the center of the dining table. It slid across the polished mahogany and hit her coffee cup.
"Those are eviction notices," I said. "Along with a preliminary injunction freezing every single asset tied to my name. I was at the bank this morning. I saw the statements, Mother. I saw the trips to Paris. I saw the Mercedes lease. I saw the fifty-thousand-dollar jewelry purchases."
Prudence leaped up from her chair. "You gave us that money! You said it was to manage the household!"
"I said it was for my wife and child," I stepped toward her, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "A wife and child you kept outside like stray dogs while you drank my wine and slept in my bed."
"This is my house!" my mother shrieked, her face turning a mottled purple. "I am your mother! I brought you into this world! You owe me!"
"I owe you nothing," I replied, ice water in my veins. "The deed is in my name. The money was my blood and sweat. You have exactly thirty minutes to pack whatever you can fit into three garbage bags. Anything bought with my money stays. If you aren't out of this house in thirty minutes, these gentlemen will physically remove you, and I will press charges for grand larceny."
The next half hour was a symphony of chaos.
Prudence screamed, threw vases, and threatened to call the police. I handed her the phone and told her to go ahead. She didn't dial. My mother tried a different tactic, collapsing onto the floor, clutching her chest, weeping and wailing about her failing heart.
I didn't blink. I sipped a glass of water and watched the second hand on my watch.
At exactly 2:30 PM, the security guards stepped forward.
They escorted my mother and sister out the front door. Prudence was crying hysterically, clutching a black trash bag filled with whatever cheap, pre-wealth clothes she could find. My mother's face was a mask of absolute, venomous hatred.
As they stood on the sidewalk outside the iron gates, I looked down at them from the driveway.
"David, please!" Prudence sobbed, gripping the iron bars. "Where are we supposed to go? We don't have any money!"
May you like
"There's a filthy back kitchen with a plastic bucket around the rear of the house," I said coldly. "But unfortunately, that property is occupied. Have a nice life."
I pressed the button on the remote, and the heavy iron gates slowly swung shut, locking them out of my world forever.
