Chapter 1 - The Eviction
"Since you clearly don't trust this family," my father said coldly, "you can pack your things and leave this house by noon."
I stood in the doorway of the breakfast room, staring at the man who had toasted to my future just twelve hours ago.
My mother, Cynthia, didn't look up from her empty teacup.
"You're kicking me out?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "Because I put my own money in a trust?"
"Because you insulted us," my father snapped. "You made a mockery of this family's unity in front of Nora Whitman. We don't harbor ungrateful children under our roof."
I looked at my older brother, Grant.
He was leaning against the marble counter, arms crossed, refusing to meet my eyes.
"Grant?" I said. "You're okay with this?"
"You brought it on yourself, Evie," he muttered, picking at his thumbnail. "Dad just needed a temporary loan from your fund to bridge a gap. You overreacted."
"A three-million-dollar gap?" I scoffed.
My father slammed his hand on the table. The crystal glasses rattled.
"Go pack," he ordered. "Leave your house keys and your credit cards on the console. You want to be independent? Start now."
I didn't cry. I think that made them angrier.
I turned on my heel and walked up the grand staircase of the estate I had lived in my entire life.
In my room, I pulled a single duffel bag from the closet. I didn't take the designer dresses or the expensive jewelry my mother had picked out.
I packed jeans, sweaters, my laptop, and a small wooden box my grandfather had given me before he died.
"Money doesn't make you safe, Evie," his voice echoed in my head. "Control does."
By 11:30 A.M., I was walking out the front door.
My father was waiting in the foyer.
"You'll be back," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips. "When you run out of cash and realize you don't know how the real world works."
"Don't hold your breath," I replied.
I dropped the house keys on the silver tray and walked down the driveway without looking back.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I reached the main gates.
It was Nora Whitman, my grandfather's attorney.
"Evie," she said. "I just got a very aggressive call from your father's lawyers. Are you safe?"
May you like
"I've just been evicted," I said, hailing a cab on the avenue.
"Come straight to my office," Nora instructed. "There's something your grandfather left for you. Something he said you'd only need if they showed their true colors."
