Chapter 9 - The Auctions
Three weeks later.
The afternoon sun blazed over the driveway of the Belle Meade property. But the white rose bushes and crystal chandeliers were gone. In their place stood large yellow banners that read: PUBLIC LIQUIDATION AUCTION – ORDERED BY CHANCERY COURT.
Movers in blue jumpsuits were carrying heavy antique furniture, crystal glassware, and oil paintings out of the mansion, lining them up on the lawn where the betrothal party had taken place weeks earlier.
A crowd of two hundred bargain hunters, antique dealers, and curious locals walked between the items, holding bidding paddles.
I stood on the stone patio, holding a warm cup of coffee, watching the proceedings. Ethan walked up beside me, handing me a folder.
"How are the final numbers looking, son?" I asked.
"The auction of their personal luxury items—the sports cars, the jewelry, the art—has already brought in three point five million dollars," Ethan reported. "Every cent is going directly into the renovation budget for the shelter."
"Good," I said. "And where are the Mitchells?"
Ethan gestured toward the far edge of the driveway near the iron gates.
Standing beside a battered ten-year-old sedan was Vanessa Mitchell. She was wearing plain denim jeans and a simple t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was watching a mover carry her mother’s grand piano down the front steps.
Beside her, Patricia was crying quietly into a tissue, while George argued frantically on his phone with a bankruptcy attorney who was clearly refusing to take his call.
Vanessa turned her head and caught sight of Ethan and me standing on the elevated patio.
For a long moment, she just stared at us. The arrogance, the sneer, the icy vanity that had defined her face three weeks ago were completely gone. She looked hollow, broken, and small.
Slowly, hesitatingly, Vanessa took a few steps toward the patio.
"Ethan..." she called out softly, her voice raspy.
Ethan took a step forward, looking down at her from the top of the stone stairs. "Hello, Vanessa."
"Ethan... please," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. "I know I ruined everything. I know I was awful. But... can we just talk? Just for five minutes? I've been working at a diner downtown just to pay for Mom's medicine... I didn't know how hard life was..."
Ethan looked at her for a long time. There was no anger left in his eyes—only a sad, quiet pity.
"I'm glad you're learning, Vanessa," Ethan said softly. "I really am. But we have nothing left to talk about."
May you like
He turned his back on her, walking over to join me by the patio doors.
Vanessa stood there for a moment longer, weeping silently in the driveway, before her mother pulled her back toward their old car.
