Chapter 7 - The Exodus
The eviction was swift and clinical. With the evidence I had provided to the legal authorities, the house we were living in—a property I discovered was originally purchased with Arthur’s inheritance and illegally transferred to my father’s name—was frozen as part of the asset forfeiture investigation.
I stood on the front lawn, Leo in my arms, watching as the luxury cars were towed away and the bank officials placed locks on the doors. My mother was hysterical, weeping over her furniture, while Clara sat on the curb, staring blankly at the driveway. Marcus was nowhere to be found; he had fled the state hours ago, leaving my sister to deal with the wreckage of his ego.
My father approached me, his stature diminished, his clothes disheveled. "Where are we supposed to go, Elena? This is our home."
I looked at the house—the site of my isolation, the place where they had relegated me to a freezing garage to die, both figuratively and perhaps literally.
"It was never your home," I said coldly. "It was a monument to your greed. I’m moving to the cottage Arthur left behind in the mountains—the one you told me was sold years ago. I found the deed in the garage archives. It’s in my name."
"You would leave us here?" my mother cried.
May you like
"I’m not leaving you," I said, adjusting the blanket around Leo. "I’m choosing to finally live. You didn't raise me; you tried to break me. But you forgot one thing: you can't break what you've already cast into the fire. I was forged in that garage. You are just the dross that was left behind."
I turned my back on them, walking toward the car that would take me to a life they couldn't touch, leaving the debris of their lives in the rearview mirror.
