Chapter 3 - The Unraveling
Beverly and Joanna didn't go quietly. When they realized the money wasn't a glitch, they didn't come to apologize. They didn't ask if I was okay. They drove to my house in Arcadia, assuming they could bully me into compliance as they always had.
When they arrived, I wasn't there. I had moved my most important documents and sentimental items to a secure storage unit two days prior. They were met by a process server instead.
I watched through a secondary security camera—one they didn't know existed—as they stood on my porch, their faces contorted with rage. Beverly was waving the eviction notice like a death warrant.
"She can't do this!" Beverly shrieked, her voice echoing through the doorbell’s intercom. "I’m her mother! This is my home!"
Joanna was trying to film the scene, probably intending to post it on social media to play the victim. "Elena, you come out here! We know you’re hiding in there like a coward!"
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I wasn't in the house. I was already at the bank, consolidating my remaining assets into a private trust that they could never access. I was also meeting with a child psychologist to document Maisie’s trauma, ensuring that if they ever tried to claim "custody" or "rights," the court would see exactly what they had done.
The turning point came when Joanna smashed a decorative pot on my porch. She thought she was hurting me. In reality, she was just giving the police the documentation they needed for a vandalism report.
