Chapter 2 - THE LINE AT THE FRONT DOOR
Frank shoved the largest storage bin aside and charged toward the open doorway.
“Move. This is our home.”
I swung the door halfway inward and planted my forearm against the frame.
He stopped inches from me.
“Not anymore.”
Patricia pushed between him and Erica, staring at the suitcases, coolers, black trash bags, and plastic bins arranged across the porch.
“You threw out your own family?”
“You were guests,” I said. “That ended today.”
Erica stood behind them in a white sundress, arms crossed.
“You can’t evict people while they’re on vacation.”
“My attorney disagrees.”
Frank pointed toward the living room. “Half the furniture in there belongs to us.”
“The two lamps and the recliner are in the storage unit. You have thirty days to collect them.”
“You ungrateful little—”
“Choose your next word carefully.”
Daniel stood behind me inside the house. He said nothing, but his presence prevented Frank from trying to force his way past me.
Patricia raised her voice so the neighbors could hear.
“We gave up everything to help you with that difficult child.”
My hand tightened around the legal notice.
“You mocked my sick daughter from a restaurant while she was receiving blood.”
“It was a private family joke.”
“You posted it publicly.”
Erica rolled her eyes. “Lily calls herself dramatic all the time.”
“No, Erica. You call her that.”
I removed my phone and turned the screenshots toward them. Their expressions shifted as they realized I had saved the post, the comments, and the time stamps.
Frank’s pointing hand lowered.
Patricia stared at the new lock.
Erica uncrossed her arms.
I thought that was why they looked afraid.
Then Frank glanced toward the upstairs windows.
It was quick, but Daniel noticed it too.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
Erica stepped forward. “I need my laptop.”
“It’s in the blue suitcase.”
“No, my other laptop. The silver one.”
“There was no silver laptop in your room.”
Her face tightened.
Patricia grabbed her wrist. “We’ll handle this through an attorney.”
A car door closed behind them.
My lawyer, Simone Carter, crossed the driveway carrying a file box. Beside her walked a licensed process server.
Patricia’s face lost color.
Simone handed Frank three envelopes.
“One for you, one for Mrs. Bennett, and one for Erica.”
Frank tore his open.
“This says you’re accusing us of identity theft.”
“I’m preserving my rights while we determine why copies of my tax returns and property records disappeared from the locked cabinet in my office.”
Erica looked at Patricia.
Patricia looked at Frank.
It was the same silent communication I had watched my whole life—the three of them deciding which version of reality everyone else would be required to accept.
Frank crushed the notice in his fist.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then you won’t mind explaining it under oath.”
He stepped closer.
Daniel moved beside me.
Frank stopped again.
I began closing the door.
Patricia stared at me as though I had violated a sacred rule.
“You don’t shut your parents out.”
I met her eyes.
“Parents don’t celebrate while their granddaughter is in the emergency room.”
The door closed between us.
A few minutes later, we heard their SUV leave.
That night, Lily woke long enough to ask whether they had gotten back into the house.
“No,” I said.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Good.”
The relief in her voice frightened me more than the collapse had.
“Lily, why were you afraid they’d get inside?”
May you like
She looked toward the hospital-room door.
Then she whispered, “Because Aunt Erica knows I saw what they were doing.”
