Chapter 2: The Closing Laptop
Beatrice didn't flinch. She didn't cry, scream, or beg her only son for mercy. Instead, she sat in her true luxury—an unshakeable, lethal calm that seemed to drop the ambient temperature of the sunny patio to near freezing.
Slowly, deliberately, Beatrice reached forward and closed the lid of her sleek, silver laptop with a soft, final click.
"Are you finished?" Beatrice asked, her voice carrying a ruthless, quiet authority that made Jared's smug smile falter slightly.
"Mom, don't play the victim," Jared scoffed, crossing his arms. "The deed is in the family name. As the executor of Dad's estate, I have the legal right to manage this property. You're living on borrowed time."
"You always were terribly lazy with your research, Jared," Beatrice murmured, her eyes radiating an untouchable, chilling serenity. "You assumed because your father passed away, his assets automatically fell into your hands. You assumed I was broke because I don't flaunt leased luxury vehicles or post my life on social media."
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Just then, a heavy white commercial van pulled up to the curb at the front of the house. Two men in uniform stepped out, carrying a large wooden post and a bright red sign. Through the side gate of the patio, Tiffany watched in utter confusion as the men began hammering the post directly into the pristine front lawn.
Bold, black letters on the sign read: SOLD.
