Chapter 8 - The Aftermath
"Pack your bags," Robert whispered. His voice was hollow. Broken. Madison looked shocked. "Dad—" "I said pack your bags!" he roared, startling everyone on the porch. "Get your things out of my house right now!" Under the watchful eye of the police officer, Madison and Evan went inside. It took them twenty minutes to drag their designer luggage back out to the driveway. They didn't look at me. They didn't look at Robert. They loaded up their car, the heavy silence hanging thick in the late afternoon air. As they drove away, Robert sank onto the front steps, burying his face in his hands. The police officer tipped his hat to me. "Have a good evening, ma'am. Call us if they come back." The locksmith finished installing the new deadbolts, handed me a shiny set of keys, and drove off. I stood on the porch, looking at my husband. "Laura," Robert croaked, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I swear to God I didn't know what they were planning." "I know you didn't, Robert," I said quietly. He looked up, a glimmer of hope in his wet eyes. "Can you ever forgive me?" I looked at the man I had married. I thought about how he had brought them into my home without asking. I thought about how he had watched them hand me a servant's schedule and said nothing. I thought about the hidden key under the rhododendron bush. "You didn't know about their plan," I said. "But you did know they treated me like garbage. And you let them. You gave them the spare key. You were willing to sacrifice my peace for your convenience." Robert stood up, panic returning to his eyes. "Laura, please..." I reached into my purse. I pulled out the brand new, freshly cut silver key the locksmith had just given me. I held it up so the afternoon sun caught the metal. Then, I dropped it back into my purse and snapped it shut. "I'll have my lawyer draw up the paperwork to buy out your half of the equity," I said smoothly. "You have until the end of the month to pack your things. You can stay in the guest room until then." "Laura, no! This is our house!" "No, Robert," I said, turning the handle of the newly locked front door. "It's my house now." I stepped inside, closed the door firmly behind me, and slid the new deadbolt into place. For the first time in three days, the house was perfectly quiet. I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of tea, and enjoyed the silence.
