Chapter 3 - The Eviction
Nobody moved for five seconds.
Then David grabbed Julian by the arm, yanking him up off the bathroom floor with enough force to nearly dislocate his shoulder.
“Get dressed,” David spat, his voice shaking with revulsion. “And if you ever call me brother again, I’ll break every bone in your body.”
Julian stumbled back into the master bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the pristine hardwood. Mia scrambled out of the jacuzzi, clutching her bath sheet around her shoulders like a shield, and ran sobbing up the back stairs toward the small staff room where her duffel bag was still packed.
Beatrice stood in the hallway alone, her silk shawl slipping from her shoulders onto the floor. She looked at me standing by the dining table, the candlelight reflecting off the crystal glasses.
“Harper,” Beatrice whispered, her voice losing all its aristocratic venom, replaced by a desperate, old-woman plea. “Family is family. We can work this out. Don’t let outsiders destroy—relative to relative—we can handle this privately—”
“You are not my family, Beatrice,” I said softly. “You were an expense I didn't mind paying until I found out you were plotting behind my back. Now, walk out of my front door before I have the security gates locked and call the police for trespassing.”
Beatrice’s jaw tightened. The mask of maternal warmth cracked entirely, revealing the bitter, entitled woman underneath.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper. “You think you’re smart because you have money? Without a man behind you, you’re nothing. You’ll be begging us to take him back within a year.”
“I’ve built three businesses without a man behind me,” I replied, not even looking at her. “I built this house. And I just cleaned out the trash.”
She turned on her heel, her heels clicking angrily against the floor, and marched out the front door, slamming it so hard the windows rattled in their frames.
Ten minutes later, Julian came down the stairs.
He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a rumpled hoodie, carrying a single duffel bag in one hand. His face was pale, his eyes swollen, looking every bit like a man who had just watched his entire universe evaporate in thirty seconds.
He stopped at the edge of the living room.
“Is this really how it ends?” he asked quietly, his voice hollow. “Ten years? Harper... we were a team.”
“We were,” I said, finally looking up from the table. “At the beginning. When we had nothing, we were a team. But the moment we had everything, you decided you were the king and I was just the treasury.”
He swallowed hard, taking a step forward. “Where am I supposed to go?”
“Ask Mia,” I said. “Or ask your mother. I hear she has a very comfortable guest room for men who can't keep their pants zipped.”
Julian flinched as if he had been struck across the face. He stood there for another moment, waiting for some sign of softness, some hint of the forgiving girl he had married ten years ago in a small chapel with secondhand flowers.
There was nothing left.
May you like
He turned, walked out the front door, and pulled it closed behind him.
The click of the latch was the quietest sound I had ever heard. And the sweetest.
