Chapter 1 - The New List on the Table
At exactly 6:00 a.m., footsteps echoed down the staircase.
Claire entered the kitchen wearing silk pajamas, yawning casually as if she were a guest descending into the dining hall of a five-star resort. Dean strolled behind her in his socks, checking his phone and waiting for the aroma of fresh coffee and cooked eggs.
Instead, the kitchen was silent.
The stove was cold.
The marble island was bare.
And right in the center of the foyer, directly beside the front door, sat their two oversized suitcases.
Claire stopped dead in her tracks. Her brows drew together in sharp irritation.
“Evelyn?” she called out, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Where’s breakfast? I specifically put six o'clock on the schedule so Dean could beat traffic.”
I stepped out of my study holding a cup of freshly brewed black coffee—just one cup, for myself.
“The kitchen is closed,” I said calmly.
Dean chuckled, though it sounded strained. “Very funny. Come on, Evelyn. We had a late night, and Claire gets migraines if she doesn't eat protein first thing.”
“Then I suggest you take her to a diner,” I replied, taking a slow sip.
Claire’s face flushed red with indignation. She marched toward the entryway, her heels clicking aggressively against the wood, and that was when she noticed the freshly laminated paper resting atop the console table.
She snatched it up.
Her eyes darted across the text:
1. All unauthorized occupants must vacate the premises by 7:00 a.m.
2. Any luggage, personal items, or vehicles remaining after 7:00 a.m. will be removed at the owner's expense.
3. Keys must be surrendered immediately upon exit.
4. Future visits require written notice thirty days in advance, subject to sole owner approval.
Signed: Evelyn Reed, Sole Titleholder and Property Owner.
Claire stared at the paper as if it were written in a foreign language. Then she let out a loud, mocking laugh.
“What is this garbage? ‘Sole owner’? Dad bought this house twenty years ago!”
“Did he?” I asked quietly.
Right on cue, heavy footsteps shuffled down the stairs. Robert appeared in his robe, rubbing his eyes, looking weary and anxious. He had spent the entire night pretending to sleep while tossing and turning beside me, terrified of the confrontation he knew was coming.
“What’s all the shouting about?” Robert muttered, trying to sound like the master of the house.
Claire shoved the paper into his chest. “Dad! Tell your wife to stop playing games. She packed our bags and printed out this ridiculous eviction notice!”
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Robert looked down at the laminated sheet.
All the color drained from his face.
