Chapter 3 - Stripped of the Mask
The scene in the hallway of the Heights District luxury complex was nothing short of a spectacle.
Neighbors gathered near the elevators, whispering and filming on their phones as two deputies stood over Michael and Hattie while they frantically stuffed their clothes into cheap trash bags.
"This is a mistake!" Michael yelled at Victoria, his voice breaking into a pathetic squeak. "Where is Penelope?! Let me talk to my wife!"
"Ms. Vance has no interest in speaking to a man who strikes women," Victoria replied smoothly, checking her gold wristwatch. "Oh, and Michael? The Mercedes you drive? The lease was held under Penelope’s corporate account. The tow truck is currently hooking it up in the basement garage."
"What about my mother's medical treatments?!" Michael cried, pointing at Hattie, who was now weeping hysterically against the wall. "She needs her care!"
"According to the financial audit conducted last night," Victoria said, pulling a spreadsheet from her file, "Mrs. Hattie Coleman’s 'severe health conditions' were a complete fabrication used to justify living rent-free. Furthermore, the $8,000 monthly allowance you were sending her was illegally drawn from a joint household maintenance account funded entirely by Ms. Vance."
Victoria stepped closer, her voice dropping so only the two of them could hear.
"Ms. Vance is suing your mother for $280,000 in unjust enrichment and fraud. And as for you, Michael... the Police Department has opened a criminal file for Domestic Assault and Elder Abuse based on yesterday's doorbell footage."
Hattie dropped her trash bag, her face turning gray. "The... the video?"
"Every frame," Victoria smiled. "Including the part where you put a dog chain around Donna’s neck and told her to bark. The District Attorney was... extraordinarily disturbed by the footage."
Ten minutes later, Michael and Hattie were marched down the carpeted hallway carrying trash bags full of shirts and shoes, escorted by the deputies past laughing neighbors.
When they reached the street, the sun was scorching. Michael’s luxury SUV was already on the back of a flatbed tow truck, pulling away into traffic.
Hattie sat down on the hot curb, clutching her cheap purse, wailing at the top of her lungs. "Michael! What are we going to do?! Where are we going to go?!"
Michael pulled out his phone to call a cab, but another alert popped up: Cellular Service Terminated Due to Non-Payment.
Penelope had cut the family phone plan.
Desperate, Michael looked at his mother—the woman whose pride, greed, and cruelty had driven him to destroy his own life.
"Get up, Mom," Michael said, his voice hollow and filled with sudden, bitter resentment.
May you like
"Where are we going?" she sobbed.
"To a motel," he muttered, staring down at the trash bag in his hand. "If I have enough cash in my wallet for a room."
