Chapter 2 - The Squatters

I didn't wait for Elena to respond. I pushed past her into my own home, and the stench of entitlement hit me instantly. The house didn't smell like my mother’s lavender soap or my father’s old books anymore. It smelled like expensive, cloying perfume and stale cigarette smoke.
I walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom. My mother’s antique furniture had been shoved into the hallway, replaced by cheap, modern garbage. But what made the blood pound in my ears was the sound of snoring coming from the master suite.
I pushed the door open.
Elena’s parents, Richard and Martha, were sound asleep in the king-sized bed I had purchased with my first officer’s commission. The room was littered with empty wine bottles, shopping bags from luxury boutiques, and a stack of mail—my mother’s mail—torn open on the dresser.
I reached over and flicked the overhead lights on.
“Get up,” I barked, using the voice that could cut through the roar of a Blackhawk helicopter.
Richard bolted upright, clutching his chest, his face red with sleep and confusion. Martha shrieked, pulling the duvet up.
“What the hell is going on?!” Richard yelled, squinting against the light. “Marcus? You’re supposed to be in Afghanistan for another two months!”
“Plans changed,” I said coldly. “You have exactly ten minutes to pack whatever fits into your car and get out of my house.”
Martha scoffed, regaining her haughty composure. “Excuse me? Elena invited us to live here! This is our daughter’s home! You can’t just throw us out into the snow.”
May you like
“This house is in my name, purchased before the marriage,” I corrected, stepping into the room. “My mother has legal residency here. You are trespassing. In five minutes, the police are arriving to arrest your daughter for elder abuse. If you are still on this property when they pull up, I will have you both charged with criminal trespassing and receiving stolen property.” I picked up one of the luxury shopping bags. “Because I know damn well you didn't buy this on your fixed income.”
Panic finally set in. They scrambled out of the bed, grabbing clothes and stuffing them blindly into suitcases. I walked out of the room, leaving them to their frantic, humiliating retreat.