Chapter 7 - EVICTION NOTICE
The living room exploded into chaos.
“You can’t do that!” Brandon shouted, his face turning purple with rage. “We live here! Our clothes are upstairs! Our kids go to school here!”
“You are guests,” I said, pointing toward the front door. “And your welcome expired the moment you told me I had no place to sit at my own table. Get your coats.”
“Brandon, is this true?” Claire demanded, her voice shaking violently as she stepped up to her husband. She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his sleeve. “Did you lie to me about the house? Did you trick me into signing away my inheritance?”
Brandon tried to shake her off. “Claire, don’t listen to her, she’s senile, she’s making it all up—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me anymore!” Claire screamed, a sound so raw and broken that it finally pierced through Brandon’s arrogant armor.
For the first time since I had known him, Brandon looked trapped. He looked at his mother, who was backing away toward the coat rack with her designer bag clutched to her chest. He looked at Claire, who was staring at him as if she were seeing a stranger for the very first time. And finally, he looked at me.
“You’ll regret this,” Brandon hissed, his voice dropping into a venomous whisper. “We’re taking the kids. You’ll never see them again.”
“Try it,” I said evenly. “And I’ll have Marcus file criminal fraud charges for the forgery on that quitclaim deed before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
He knew I wasn't bluffing.
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Brandon let out a frustrated, animalistic growl, turned on his heel, and stormed up the stairs to the master bedroom, slamming doors so hard the framed photographs on the hallway walls rattled.
Donna stood by the door, her face pale, refusing to meet my eyes. “I... I think I’ll call an Uber,” she muttered, grabbing her coat and slipping out into the night without another word.
