The invitation was embossed in gold leaf on thick, cream-colored cardstock. It weighed about as much as a small brick.
« Mr. and Mrs. Mark Davidson cordially invite you to the Housewarming Party of the Century. Sapphire Estate, The Hamptons. »
I, Liam Bennett, held that note in my calloused hands. My sister, Jessica—now Mrs. Davidson—had finally fulfilled her dream. Or rather, she had finally bought the stage for the performance she called her life.
Jessica was five years older than me. Growing up, she was the sun, and I was the planet meant to orbit her, silent and supportive. She was beautiful, charismatic, and ruthlessly ambitious. I was… well, according to our family, « the slow one. » The one who dropped out of business school to start a small landscaping business. The one who wore flannel instead of Armani.
I drove my old Ford pickup to the Hamptons. The security guard at the gate sneered at my vehicle and triple-checked my ID before letting me through.
The Sapphire Estate was breathtaking. A modern architectural marvel of glass and white stone, perched on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. It screamed money. New money. Loud money.
I parked the pickup truck between the Ferrari and the Bentley, ignoring the angry glares from the parking attendants. I took a deep breath, straightened my simple navy blazer, and headed toward the entrance.
“Liam!” Jessica’s voice rang like a bell. She descended the grand staircase, dressed in a shimmering silver gown that probably cost more than my delivery truck. “You really came! I was worried you wouldn’t be able to take time off… you know, from mowing lawns.”
She hugged me quickly and gently, trying not to touch me too much.
“Hi, Jess. Congratulations,” I said, handing her the bottle of vintage wine I’d brought.
She looked at the label, unimpressed, and handed it to a passing waiter. “Put this with the cooking wine, Charles. Thanks.”
She turned to me with a forced smile. “Listen, Liam. Tonight is very important. Mark’s partners are here. The press is here. Please… try to blend in. Don’t talk about your… dirty business.”
“It’s a landscaping company, Jess,” I corrected her gently.
“Never mind,” she waved her hand. “Just find a seat. Dinner will be starting soon.”
Chapter 2: Seafood Pizza
I entered the dining room. It was set for a royal banquet. Three long tables covered with white tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, and silver cutlery gleamed beneath the chandeliers.
I was looking for my business card. I passed the table where Mark and Jessica were sitting. I passed the VIP table for investors. I passed the table of friends.
I finally found it.
My seat wasn’t at the main tables. It was a small, round, folding table set up by the swinging kitchen door. It was the kind of table you’d sit kids at on Thanksgiving, except today there were no kids.
Just me. One chair. One place setting.
« Table of Shame. »
I sat down. Waiters rushed past me, and a gust of wind from the kitchen door ruffled my hair every few seconds. I felt the guests’ gazes on me—sympathetic, amused, confused.
Jessica stood up to propose a toast. She tapped her spoon against her champagne glass. A hush fell over the room.
“Thank you all for coming to our humble abode,” she began, her voice trembling with mock humility. “Mark and I worked so hard for this dream. We built it from scratch.”
Applause. Mark beamed, looking pleased in his tuxedo.
“But,” Jessica continued, her gaze sweeping the room until it finally landed on me, sitting alone in the corner. “We also know the value of mercy. Family is everything, even those… broken parts.”
There was a deathly silence in the room.
« My brother, Liam, is here tonight, » she gestured at me. I didn’t move. « Liam has always had problems. He’s a dreamer. A little lost. He mows lawns for a living, bless him. But Mark and I believe in taking care of ourselves. That’s why we invited him here to see what real success looks like, to inspire him. Liam, enjoy. This is probably the best meal you’ll eat all year. »
A murmur of awkward laughter rippled through the crowd. Some looked embarrassed, but many—the sycophants—laughed along.
“To your success!” Jessica raised her glass.
“Towards success!” echoed in the hall.
I felt my face burn. The humiliation was physical, the heat rising from my chest to my ears. She hadn’t just sat me down, she’d used me as a prop to elevate her status. Benevolent queen and commoner.
The waiter placed a plate in front of me.
This wasn’t the beef tenderloin that others ordered. This was a personal-sized pizza.
“Chef’s special for a… special guest,” the waiter muttered, looking embarrassed. “Seafood pizza. Lobster with truffles.”
It was a joke. The final insult. Pizza at the gala dinner.
I looked at the pizza. It looked truly delicious. Golden crust, chunks of fresh lobster, and the earthy aroma of truffles.
I looked at Jessica. She was laughing with the senator without even looking at me.
Something inside me snapped. Not with a bang, but with a quiet, decisive click.
I took a piece. I bit into it.
It was good. Really good.
I ate the first piece. Then the second. I ate slowly, methodically. I savored the lobster. I liked the truffle.
I ate the entire pizza. I wiped my mouth with a linen napkin. I took a sip of water.
Then I got up.
I didn’t go to the exit. I went to the presidential table.
Chapter 3: The Debt
The room grew quiet as I approached. People sensed a scene. Jessica saw me coming and frowned.
« Liam, where are you going? The restroom is the other way, » she hissed.
I stopped right in front of her and Mark. I looked down at them.
“The pizza was delicious, Jessica,” I said. My voice was calm, confident, carrying easily in the silence of the room. “Thank you for the meal.”
“You’re welcome,” she said dismissively. “Now go and sit down.”
“No,” I said. “I’ve finished eating. Now we need to discuss business.”
“Service?” Mark snorted. “What business? You want to mow the lawn here? We already have a gardener, Liam.”
“That’s not the point,” I reached into my jacket’s inner pocket. I didn’t pull out a gun, but something far more dangerous was in this place.
A folded piece of paper.
I unfolded it and carefully placed it on the table, right next to Jessica’s diamond-encrusted clutch.
It was a bill of exchange. Notarized. Legally binding.
« Three months ago, » I said, addressing the assembled group—the senator, the investors, the bankers. « Jessica came to my ‘sad’ office. She was crying. She said the bank financing for this villa fell through at the last minute. She said she would lose her deposit. She said her dream was crumbling. »
Jessica’s face paled. « Liam, stop. We’ll talk about this later. »
“She asked for a loan,” I continued, ignoring her. “A bridging loan. Short-term. To finalize the transaction for The Sapphire Estate.”
“Did you borrow money from the gardener?” a woman at the next table whispered loudly.
“How much can he have?” the man laughed. “Five thousand?”
“Two million dollars,” I said.
The silence was absolute. You could hear a pin drop on the carpet.
“Two. Million. Dollars,” I repeated. “Provided it is repaid in full within 90 days. Today is the 90th day.”
Mark stood up, his face red. “You’re lying! You don’t have that kind of money!”
“No?” I smiled. It was a cold smile. “You think I just mow grass, Mark? I own GreenHorizon. We don’t just mow lawns. We design sustainable landscapes for tech campuses in Silicon Valley. We hold patents for vertical irrigation systems. My company was valued at forty million dollars last quarter.”
The room filled with gasps. The « useless brother » was a multimillionaire.
I tapped my finger on a piece of paper lying on the table.
« You’re in arrears, Jessica. It’s midnight. You haven’t paid. According to Clause 4, Section B of this agreement—which you signed without reading because you were too busy looking at paint samples—if the loan is not repaid on time, the security interest is transferred to the lender. »
“Protection?” Jessica whispered in a trembling voice.
“The deed to this house,” I said. “This villa is collateral.”
PART 2: HOUSE OF CARDS
Chapter 4: Unraveling
“This is absurd!” Mark shouted, looking around for support. “He’s causing a fuss! Security!”
« I wouldn’t do that, » a voice said from behind the VIP table. It was Mr. Henderson, the most powerful banker in New York. He stood up and walked over to the table. He picked up the document I had placed on the table.
He adjusted his glasses, read the text and looked at Mark.
“It’s a standard lien agreement, Mark,” Henderson said. “And it’s irrefutable. Since he lent you the money to close, and you secured it with the property… well, legally speaking, he now owns the house.”
“But… but…” Jessica stammered. “He’s my brother! He wouldn’t do that!”
« You just announced to the entire room that I’m a hopeless loser who eats your leftovers, » I said quietly. « You sat me by the kitchen door. You mocked me. You took my money, bought this house to show off to people who don’t care about you, and then you treated me like garbage. »
I walked closer.
« I was supposed to write off the debt, Jess. I brought the debt discharge papers tonight. It was your housewarming gift. I was supposed to give you that two million dollars as a gift. »
I pulled another envelope from my pocket. I tore it in half, then into quarters. The sound of the tearing paper was the loudest in the room.
“But then you gave me pizza.”
Jessica watched the torn pieces of paper fall like snow. Her eyes filled with tears—not of sadness, but of terror.
“Liam, please,” she begged, grabbing my hand. “We don’t have any money. We spent it all on renovations, on the party… Mark’s bonus won’t be until next year!”
“That’s not my problem,” I said, withdrawing my hand. “You wanted to live the high life. You wanted to be queen. Well, a queen pays her debts.”
I looked at the guests.
“Sorry for ruining your dessert,” I announced. “But the party is over. Please leave my property.”
Chapter 5: Eviction
The guests didn’t need to be told twice. They were friends of the rich for all occasions. Smelling bankruptcy and scandal, they fled like rats from a sinking ship. Within twenty minutes, the great hall was deserted, except for the staff, me, and two crumbling statues: my sister and her husband.
“You can’t throw us out,” Mark snapped, trying to muster some bravado. “We have nowhere to go.”
“You have your old apartment in Queens, right?” I asked. “Oh wait, you sold it to buy furniture for the guest rooms, which you never use.”
“Liam, I’m pregnant,” Jessica blurted out.
I stopped. I looked at her stomach. It was flat in that designer dress.
“You’re drinking champagne, Jess,” I pointed to her half-empty glass. “Don’t lie. Not tonight.”
She sobbed and collapsed into a chair – one of the chairs she had refused to let me sit on.
“Why are you doing this?” she exclaimed. “We are family!”
« That’s the word you used when you humiliated me, » I said. « Family. You use it when it benefits you. You use it to borrow money. You use it to present yourself as a charitable person. But you don’t know what it means. »
I took out my phone and called my lawyer.
« Done, » I said into the phone. « File a transfer of ownership application. And send a team to secure the premises. »
I looked at Mark. « You have until tomorrow morning to pack your personal belongings. Everything you buy with my money stays. Furniture, art, wine. Stays. »
I turned and walked towards the door.
“Liam!” Jessica screamed. “I hate you! I wish you were never born!”
I stopped. I didn’t look back.
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I liked the pizza so much. It was the only honest thing you gave me.”
Chapter 6: The Empty Castle
The next morning I returned to the estate.
Mark and Jessica left. They left furious, trashing the master bedroom before leaving. Mirrors were shattered, curtains torn. It was the childish tantrum of people who had never been told « no. »
My team was already there cataloging the damage.
I stepped out onto the terrace overlooking the ocean. In a perfect world, I should have felt triumph. I should have felt a sweet rush of revenge.
But I just felt tired.
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