Chapter 3 - The Cold Light of Reality
Patricia didn’t move. Instead, she crossed her arms, planting her feet stubbornly onto the floor. The panic had morphed into stubborn defiance. She had bullied Ethan his entire childhood, and she believed, deep down, that a mother held an unbreakable psychological leash over her son.
“You won’t call the police on your own mother,” Patricia sneered, her voice dropping into a patronizing drawl. “You wouldn’t dare bring that kind of shame upon the Vance family name. And besides, Ethan, let’s be practical. This house is in your name. You purchased this property. You cannot legally throw me out without a formal thirty-day eviction notice. I know tenant laws. I established residency here months ago.”
A slow, humorless smile crept onto Ethan’s lips. It was a terrifying look on a man who was normally patient, gentle, and accommodating to a fault.
“Is that what you think, Mother?” Ethan asked quietly. “You think this is my house?”
“Of course it is,” Nicole chimed in, regaining her bravado. “You’re the partner at the architectural firm. Clara just works in corporate logistics. We all know who wears the financial pants here. You think some little court order can kick us out of your house?”
I let out a soft, dry laugh from the chair where I sat, the napkin over my hand now soaked in dark red. “Patricia, did you ever wonder why Ethan was able to buy out his firm’s senior partner three years ago when the company was on the verge of bankruptcy?”
Patricia blinked, a flicker of doubt crossing her eyes. “He took out a commercial loan. Because he’s brilliant.”
“No,” Ethan said. “Clara funded the buyout from her family trust. Clara restructured the firm’s logistics division, turning a forty percent deficit into a seventy percent profit margin within eighteen months. And when we bought this house?” Ethan stepped forward, his eyes boring into his mother’s. “Clara paid eighty percent of the down payment in cash. The title of this house is held under a private family trust. Clara is the sole trustee. I am a beneficiary. My name isn’t even on the deed, Mother.”
Patricia’s jaw went slack. “What? You let a woman own your roof? Are you insane?”
“I let my wife own our home because I trust her with my life,” Ethan said. “And right now, you are trespassing on her private property. Furthermore, the tenant laws you’re trying to cite require legal subletting or rent exchange. You haven’t paid a single cent for groceries, utilities, or maintenance since the day you dragged your suitcases through that door. You are guests who have overstayed an informal invitation, and you just committed aggravated assault with a deadly weapon on camera.”
As if on cue, the distant wail of sirens echoed from the bottom of our neighborhood hill.
Nicole’s eyes went wild with real fear this time. “You actually called them? Ethan, I’m pregnant! If I get arrested, it could cause a miscarriage! You can’t do this to your niece!”
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“You should have thought about your baby before you encouraged your mother to throw a ceramic bowl at my wife,” Ethan said without an ounce of pity. “Pack your bags. Now.”
***
