Chapter 4 - Discovery and Defiance
Two days after the eviction, I took Sarah and Jamie to a private medical clinic in the city. The results made my blood boil all over again. Jamie was severely malnourished, showing signs of vitamin D deficiency and mild anemia from living in that dark back kitchen without proper sustenance. Sarah’s hands bore deep chemical burns from the industrial-grade detergents Gertrude had forced her to use without gloves.
"We can heal this, Mr. Vance," the doctor told me, looking over the charts with a grim expression. "But the psychological trauma... your son reacts to loud noises as if he expects to be struck."
I sat in the clinic hallway, my head in my hands, feeling the crushing weight of guilt. I had been trying to build a empire for them, but while I was looking at the stars in the desert, wolves were tearing down my home.
Sarah sat next to me, sliding her scarred hand into mine. "Stop it, Michael. You didn't know."
"I should have known," I muttered. "I should have flown back when your voice sounded hollow on the phone."
"They threatened Jamie," she said softly. "Gertrude told me that if I dropped any hints, she would use your money to hire a high-powered lawyer to prove I was an unfit mother while you were away, take Jamie, and put him in a foster home where I'd never find him. I was alone, Michael. I was so scared."
"You're not alone anymore," I swore, kissing her knuckles. "I'm going to take everything they love away from them. Watch me."
The next day, the first counter-strike landed. I received a legal notice. Gertrude and Prudence were suing me for "wrongful eviction," emotional distress, and demanding a monthly alimony-style stipend from my earnings, claiming they were my legal dependents who had sacrificed their lives to oversee the construction of my estate.
Attached to the lawsuit was a smear campaign. Prudence had posted a video online, crying about how her "volatile, abusive brother" had returned from the Middle East, traumatized by the harsh environment, and thrown his elderly mother onto the streets to live in poverty.
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The comments section was a firestorm of judgment from Bayside Heights society.
I looked at the screen, a dark smile spreading across my face. They wanted to play in the court of public opinion? Excellent. I owned the stadium.
