Chapter 9 - The Eviction of Entitlement
Panic finally broke through their defensive armor. Harrison stood up so fast his barstool crashed backward onto the tile floor.
“Mom, you can’t kick us out!” Harrison stammered, his voice cracking with desperation. “The job market is terrible! We don’t have anywhere to go! You’re destroying our lives over some money issues that we can figure out later!”
“You’ve had eleven months to figure it out,” I replied coldly. “Instead, you treated my home like a motel and my life savings like your personal ATM. Pack your bags, Harrison. You have until tonight.”
Sloan stood up, her face twisting into an ugly snarl of pure venom. “You miserable, selfish old woman! You’re throwing your own flesh and blood out on the street over a few numbers on a screen! You’ll regret this when you’re old and completely alone!”
“I was already alone in this house,” I answered quietly. “The only difference now is that I won't have parasites feeding on my grief.”
May you like
I pulled out my phone and dialed the local police non-emergency line, putting it on speaker so they could hear the ringing tone. “If you aren't packing by noon, I’ll have the authorities escort you off the property for trespassing and financial fraud. The choice is yours.”
The threat of legal consequences shattered whatever bravado they had left. Sloan cursed loudly, grabbing her designer bag—the scorched one—and stomped up the stairs toward the guest room, slamming doors so hard the walls shook. Harrison stood paralyzed for a moment, looking at me with a pathetic mix of anger and shock, before turning and chasing after her to salvage whatever dignity they had left.
