The expression of victory, of entitlement, satisfied. Kyle immediately started criticizing the layout. We’ll need to paint. This beige is depressing. And get rid of this couch, Emma said, touching my carefully selected garbage furniture. Where did he even get this? They spent the next hour moving in boxes, rearranging, taking down the few photos I’d left.
Stock images from IKEA. Kyle found the wine in the note. You’ve earned this, he read aloud. Damn right we did. His privilege is showing. He probably feels guilty, Emma said. Finally realized how good he has it while we struggle. My father raised his glass. To Marcus, who’s finally learned the meaning of family. They toasted. I closed the laptop.
Let them enjoy it. December 28th, 9:58 a.m. The security feed showed Emma making coffee in my kitchen. Kyle drilling holes in the wall to hang his art. Some kind of abstract monstrosity that looked like he’d sneezed paint onto canvas. 9:59 a.m. The power cut. Emma’s voice. What the hell? The heating died in Chicago in December.
Temperature outside 16°. Kyle tried the water. Ice cold. 10 a.m. Three sharp knocks on the door. Emma opened it. Irritation already blooming into fury. Standing in the hallway, Rick Chen and two private security guards. Behind them, a man in a suit that cost more than Kyle made in a month. “Good morning,” the man said. His name was Marcus Stone, Sterling’s head of security, former Secret Service.
You have 5 minutes to vacate these premises. Emma’s face went white. Excuse me. This property was sold on December 27th. As of 10:00 a.m. today, you are trespassing on private property owned by Apex Holdings LLC. You have 5 minutes to remove your belongings before we call the police.
“That’s impossible,” Emma’s voice climbed. three octaves. My brother owns this place. He gave us permission. Marcus Stone pulled out a document. Marcus King sold this property two days ago. He no longer has any legal claim to this residence. Neither do you. 4 minutes. Kyle appeared behind Emma, chest puffed up in that way men do when they’re about to lose an argument.
We have rights. We have mail being delivered here. One piece of mail from an online shopping order doesn’t establish residency, Rick said. Deadpan. And even if it did, the property ownerhas video evidence of unlawful entry using a stolen key. 3 minutes. Emma pulled out her phone, fingers shaking. I watched her dial my number, the phone I’d turned off 6 hours ago.
He’s not answering, she said, voice breaking. Marcus isn’t answering. 2 minutes, Stone said. I suggest you start packing. They called my parents. My mother arrived in under 10 minutes, screeching into the parking lot like she was in a car chase. She burst into the hallway, saw the security team, and launched into her best maternal outrage.
Those are my grandchildren’s belongings. You can’t just throw them out on the street. Stone didn’t blink. Ma’am, this is private property. You’re welcome to help them pack, but if you’re not out in He checked his watch. 90 seconds. I’m calling the police for criminal trespassing. My father tried the lawyer approach. I’m an attorney.
This is unlawful eviction. You can’t actually, sir. This is lawful removal of trespassers from private property with no legal claim to occupancy. I’m an attorney, too. Northwestern class of A8. One minute. They scrambled. I watched Emma and Kyle drag boxes back out to their car. watched my mother try to save Emma’s new dishes, the ones she’d bought yesterday with money she didn’t have, thinking she’d be living rentree, one of the security guards carried out the garbage sofa, literally threw it off the third floor balcony into the snow below.
The TV, my terrible, barely functioning TV face down in the slush. Neighbors came out, Mrs. Chen from 3B, the Morrison couple from 3C, the college students from down the hall. They watched the whole thing. Some recorded it on their phones. One of the students called down from her balcony. That’s what happens when you try to scam someone.
The small crowd that had gathered actually laughed. My mother bent down in the snow trying to salvage Emma’s things. The woman who’d raised me to always take the high road was on her hands and knees picking through slush and garbage. My father stood by the car, face purple with rage, screaming into his phone, probably at his lawyer friends, probably threatening to sue.
Good luck suing someone who documented everything. Emma sat in the car crying. Kyle paced, punching the air, yelling about rights and justice and how they’d been wronged. The security team waited until every box was removed. Then Stone called a locksmith already on standby and had every lock changed.
The whole process took 43 minutes. At 10:43 a.m., my phone showed 78 missed calls. Mom, 23 calls. Emma, 31 calls. Dad, 19 calls. Kyle, five calls. The voicemails were predictable. Marcus, what have you done? Call us back right now. How could you do this to your sister? We will never forgive you for this. You’re dead to us.
I blocked every number, every email address, every social media account. Then I ordered another glass of champagne and boarded my flight to the Maldes. 23 hours later, I was standing on a beach, sand between my toes, 85°, the sound of waves drowning out everything else. My phone buzzed. A text from Sterling. Property secured.
No damage except some amateur paint on one wall and unauthorized holes. Already fixed. Best 300K I ever spent. Thanks for the deal. I sent back a thumbs up. Another buzz. Rick Chen, your family tried to file a police report for theft. Officer laughed them out of the station. Thought you’d want to know. I smiled.
Actually smiled. For the first time in weeks, they’d wanted my home. Wanted to take what I’d built through years of sacrifice and hard work. Wanted me to keep being the person who gave everything and asked for nothing. The person who existed to make their lives easier. I’d given them exactly what they deserved. Nothing.
No, that wasn’t quite right. I’d given them a front row seat to their own greed. documented in 4K, witnessed by their community, preserved forever in building security footage and neighbor cell phone videos. I’d given them exactly what they tried to take from me, except instead of a home, they got a lesson.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
