Chapter 4
Vance stepped forward and pressed a sleek black fob against the digital keypad of the grand iron gates, which smoothly swung open with a satisfying, expensive mechanical hum. "Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Hale," Vance said, gesturing grandly toward the sweeping circular driveway lined with blooming white hydrangeas and ancient oak trees. Finn gasped in absolute wonder, his little jaw dropping as he stared up at the massive double mahogany front doors and the towering white pillars of the portico. Mabel stood frozen in disbelief, her swollen hands flying to cover her mouth as tears welled up in her tired eyes once again. "Jenna... this... this place costs millions... how did you...?" Mabel stammered, unable to finish her sentence.
"I closed the Chicago distribution deal three weeks early, Mom, and I've been secretly liquidating my separate pre-marital assets while Colby was busy gambling away his allowance," I explained smoothly. Vance tapped a code into the front door lock, and the heavy wood panels swung open to reveal a breathtaking marble foyer illuminated by a crystal chandelier. The interior was a masterpiece of interior design, featuring soaring vaulted ceilings, custom herringbone hardwood floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a private backyard oasis. There were no piles of dirty laundry here, no stale smell of fried chicken, and no toxic cloud of narcissism poisoning the pristine air.
"We have a full-time residential nurse arriving in twenty minutes to manage your arthritis medications and set up physical therapy sessions in the private wellness wing, Mom," I said gently. Mabel looked at me as if I had hung the moon and stars, her shoulders finally dropping the heavy, exhausting burden she had carried for decades. We walked through the expansive gourmet kitchen, equipped with dual commercial-grade Viking ranges, a marble waterfall island, and a fully stocked pantry that didn't require anyone to suffer in a heatbox. Finn immediately ran off to explore the sprawling indoor playroom, his gleeful laughter echoing off the high ceilings like music to my soul.
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Upstairs, the master suite was a sanctuary of soft neutral tones, plush cashmere rugs, and a sprawling private balcony overlooking the street. From my new perch, I had a crystal-clear, front-row view of my old house directly across the asphalt. Through the large double-paned glass windows, I could see Colby and Patrice dragging their overloaded designer luggage down the front steps in a state of absolute, unmitigated panic. They looked like refugees fleeing a war zone, sweating profusely in their expensive clothes as local teenagers on bicycles pointed and laughed at their public humiliation.
Patrice’s prized miniature poodle was barking furiously from inside a sparkly pink carrier while Patrice slipped on the top step, tumbling forward into a pile of cheap plastic garbage bags. Colby didn't even bother to help his mother up; he was too busy frantically pounding on the locked doors of an empty cab he had summoned via his phone app. The karma was immediate, absolute, and profoundly satisfying to witness from the comfort of a heated, air-conditioned luxury estate. I poured myself a glass of iced lemon water from the wet bar, took a slow sip, and watched the final act of their pathetic eviction play out in real-time.
