Chapter 8 - CLEARING THE PROPERTY
By 1:30 PM, the beach house looked like a refugee camp. Cardboard boxes, overflowing suitcases, and plastic storage bins were piled haphazardly across the manicured front lawn while Lindsay shrieked tearfully at a moving truck driver who was refusing to load her excess furniture without upfront cash payment.
Susan and Frank sat bitterly inside their luxury sedan, refusing to look out the windows as neighborhood onlookers watched the dramatic spectacle unfold from across the street.
I pulled up in my rental car, parking right behind their blocked-in vehicle, and stepped out onto the driveway. Marcus Vance stood by the front door, clipboard in hand, supervising two county sheriff’s deputies who were ensuring the property was cleared according to judicial orders.
Lindsay spotted me approaching, her face twisting with venomous rage. She stormed across the grass, stopping inches from my face.
"Are you happy now?!" Lindsay screamed, her mascara running down her cheeks. "You've thrown my family out on the street! Where are Mason and Leo supposed to sleep tonight?!"
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you and your parents decided to squat in a house that didn't belong to you," I replied calmly, not backing down an inch. "You thought Oliver was alone. You thought you could push him into a corner because he didn't have anyone to fight for him. You forgot that he has a mother."
Lindsay opened her mouth to snap back, but a sharp beep from the driveway interrupted her.
A sleek, black moving van pulled up behind the curb, accompanied by a professional packing crew wearing matching uniforms. At the wheel of the lead support vehicle sat Oliver, looking out the window with a quiet, dignified resolve.
He stepped out of the truck, wearing a clean jacket, looking healthier and more grounded than he had yesterday in that miserable apartment.
Lindsay sneered at him as he walked up the driveway. "Oh, look. The little prince has come to gloat."
Oliver didn't even look at her. He walked straight past his aunt, stopping in front of me with a soft, genuine smile.
May you like
"Marcus called me," Oliver said quietly. "He said the house is officially cleared."
"It's yours, Oliver," I told him, handing him the newly minted brass key that Marcus had retrieved from the court registrar. "Every single square foot of it."
