Chapter 9 - The Refund Run
Trevor leaned the clipboard against the porch wall and scrawled his signature across the bottom of all three pages. The scratches of the ballpoint pen sounded shockingly loud in the cold air. When he finished, he shoved the clipboard back into Oliver’s chest without meeting his eyes.
"Tomorrow morning at ten," I said, taking the clipboard from Oliver. "I will meet you at the mall plaza. Every receipt that was in Mom's shopping bags will be accounted for. You will bring the physical merchandise, and I will stand beside you at customer service while the transactions are processed."
"I have meetings tomorrow," Trevor muttered defensively.
"Reschedule them," I replied. "Because if you aren't standing outside the department store at ten sharp with the boxes, the police report goes live at 10:05."
Without another word, Trevor turned on his heel and stormed down the steps toward his car.
Mom lingered for a moment, her eyes rimmed with red, trembling with an overwhelming blend of indignation and wounded pride. "You broke this family apart today, Jewel. I hope you realize that. Over a few pieces of plastic and some paper money."
"You broke this family the minute you decided my children were worth zero dollars," I told her, holding her gaze until she looked away. "Drive safe, Mom."
She hurried down the driveway, her heels clicking rapidly on the asphalt. Within seconds, Trevor’s car reversed violently into the street and sped off, leaving a faint trail of exhaust fading into the gray afternoon.
Oliver closed the door behind us, locking the deadbolt with a solid, satisfying click.
"You did that perfectly," he said, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into a warm embrace.
"It’s not over," I murmured against his shoulder, letting out a breath I felt like I had been holding since Sunday morning. "Trevor is a cornered animal now. When people like him realize their facade is crumbling, they rarely go quietly into the night."
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"Let him try," Oliver said. "We have the signed confession, the collateral note, and the bank logs. There is nowhere left for him to run."
We stood in the hallway for a quiet moment, listening to the muffled sounds of Rosie laughing in the living room as Finn narrated an imaginary space mission. That sound alone was worth every single battle line I had just drawn in the sand.
