Chapter 3 - The Uninvited Guests
The house I had bought for my daughter was glowing with expensive string lights and the loud thump of jazz music when we pulled up. High-end luxury cars lined the driveway. Mark and Brenda were throwing a lavish catered event, spending the loan money they had stolen using my name.
I stepped out of my car wearing a tailored black suit. Clara stood beside me, wearing a stunning red dress she hadn't touched in years. She looked like a queen stepping up to the executioner’s block. Harrison was flanked by two armed sheriff's deputies.
We walked right through the front door.
The living room was packed with wealthy investors holding champagne flutes. In the center of the room stood Mark, wearing a custom Italian suit, laughing loudly with a tech CEO. Brenda was beside him, draped in expensive new jewelry, holding court like the lady of the manor.
Brenda saw us first. Her fake, Botox-frozen smile instantly collapsed. She dropped her champagne flute, and it shattered loudly against the hardwood floor.
The music scratched to a halt. The room went dead silent.
“Clara?” Mark gasped, the blood draining from his face. He looked at me, then at the deputies. “What… what are you doing here? You’re trespassing!”
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I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to. I walked straight up to him, my heels clicking sharply against the floorboards.
“I’m not trespassing, Mark,” I said, my voice carrying through the silent room. “I’m standing in my own living room. The living room you tried to steal.”
