Chapter 4 - The Eviction
Twenty-eight days later.
The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of my 4th Street luxury penthouse apartment.
Outside on the curb, a yellow moving truck sat idling, its hazard lights flashing under the clear blue Austin sky.
Two uniformed Travis County Sheriff’s deputies stood in the hallway outside the penthouse door, holding an official Writ of Possession signed by a state judge. Beside them stood two hired movers wearing heavy leather gloves.
Inside the apartment, absolute chaos reigned.
Suitcases were scattered across the polished hardwood floors. Clothes, shoes, and half-packed boxes littered the marble kitchen island.
Justin was standing in the living room in his sweatpants, screaming into his phone while my mother sat on a velvet sofa, sobbing hysterically into a tissue.
"Rachel, please!" Mom wailed as I stepped through the front door, accompanied by my attorney, David. "The baby is coming in four weeks! They have nowhere to go! Tiffany's parents' house was seized by the bank yesterday!"
I stopped near the foyer, looking around my immaculate apartment, which had been turned into a pigsty over the last three years. Empty takeout containers, unwashed wine glasses, and discarded designer shoe boxes covered every surface.
"Time's up, Justin," I said flatly. "The court-ordered thirty days expired at 8:00 AM today."
Justin dropped his phone to the floor, his face pale, dark circles under his hollow eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept in a month.
"Rachel... please," Justin begged, sinking to his knees right there on the hardwood floor, grasping at my boots. "I was wrong! I was so wrong! Tiffany’s father lied to us! He took Mom’s two hundred thousand dollars and used it to pay his own bank debts! The condo construction is completely halted! The bank foreclosed on it yesterday morning!"
"I know," I said coldly, stepping back so his hands fell onto the floor.
"We don't have a dollar left, Rachel!" Justin sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "My credit cards are maxed out! Tiffany left me two nights ago—she moved back to her mother’s sister's basement in San Antonio! She filed for divorce yesterday morning!"
I looked down at my younger brother.
The boy who had spent three years driving my luxury cars, taking fifty-thousand-dollar bonuses, and looking down on the woman who built his life. Now, stripped of his stolen feathers, he was nothing more than a broken child on a dirty floor.
"She divorced you?" I asked, a bitter smile touching my lips. "The moment the money ran out?"
"Yes!" Justin wept, banging his fists against the wood. "She called me a penniless loser! She said I lied to her about being a rich executive! She said she only married me because she thought your agency was half mine!"
"And you let her believe that," I said quietly. "You spent three years taking credit for my blood, sweat, and tears."
"Rachel, he’s your brother!" my mother screamed, rushing over to throw her arms around Justin’s shaking shoulders. "How can you be so heartless?! He made a mistake! He fell for the wrong woman! You have millions of dollars! Just give him his job back! Give him a small allowance so he can buy a small house!"
I looked at my mother. The woman who had sold her childhood home—the only thing my father had left us—not to secure her own retirement, but to fund a gold-digger’s dream condo for her favorite child.
"Mom," I said, my voice filled with a deep, tragic pity. "You ruined him."
Mom blinked, startled. "What... what did you say?"
"You spoiled him until he lost his spine," I said, tears finally welling in my eyes—not of heartbreak, but of final closure. "When Dad died, I worked three jobs while going to college so you wouldn't have to break your back. I built a company so our family would never be poor again. But you gave everything to the child who never worked a single day in his life."
"Rachel..." Mom whimpered.
"I am done being your family's bank account," I said clearly.
I turned to the two sheriff’s deputies standing at the door. "Officers, execute the writ. Remove all unauthorized occupants from the premises immediately."
"No! No! Rachel!" Justin shrieked as two heavy-set movers grabbed his arms, lifting him off the floor and dragging him toward the hallway elevator. "Rachel, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don't do this!"
My mother screamed and cried, chasing after him, grabbing her purse and coat as the deputies escorted them out of the building into the bright morning sun.
May you like
I stood alone in the center of the vast, quiet penthouse apartment.
The silence that followed was absolute.
