“Drive, Marcus,” Evelyn snapped at the chauffeur. The privacy partition went up, sealing us in a quiet, tense bubble.
Evelyn turned to me, her sharp eyes scanning my ragged clothes. “Three months ago, I purchased a three-bedroom estate on Hawthorne. It was meant to be a fresh start for you and Laya. I handed the deed and the keys directly to your mother, Diane, because I was leaving for Europe the next morning. She swore she would help you move in.”
My stomach plummeted, a sickening nausea washing over me. “Mom never said a word, Nana. Three weeks ago, she and Dad told me they were cutting me off. They said I was a burden and forced me out of my childhood bedroom. They watched me pack my car while Laya cried. They knew I had twenty dollars to my name.”
Evelyn didn’t speak for a long time. She simply pulled a sleek smartphone from her designer handbag and made a call. I listened in stunned silence as she bypassed standard customer service lines, getting straight through to high-level bankers and property managers.
With every answer she received, her posture grew stiffer, her expression hardening into something truly terrifying. The grandmother I had been taught to fear wasn’t cold; she was a protective force of nature, and someone had just awoken her wrath.
She hung up the phone and looked out the window, her jaw set. “Your parents didn’t just lie to me, Maya. They forged your signature on a fraudulent lease agreement. They rented out the Hawthorne property to a tech executive for five thousand dollars a month. They’ve been pocketing the cash to pay off a massive gambling debt your father accumulated last year.”
I gasped, covering my mouth as tears finally spilled over. While my six-year-old daughter and I were eating out of soup kitchens and freezing in a broken-down car, my parents were collecting rent on a home that belonged to us. They had sacrificed their own flesh and blood to cover up their financial ruin.
“Where are they right now?” Evelyn asked, her tone deadly calm.
“They… they’re hosting the annual family winter gala today at the country club,” I stammered, remembering the invitations I had helped address before they threw me out. “They told everyone they were celebrating Dad’s new business venture.”
“Marcus,” Evelyn called out, tapping the glass partition. “Change of destination. Take us to the Oakbrook Country Club. Step on it.”
