Chapter 4 - The Counter-Attack
The next morning, while Olivia remained at the hotel with a resting Mason, I drove back to our suburban home accompanied by two private security personnel I had hired for the day.
When I pulled up to the house, I expected to find it empty. Instead, my mother’s car was still in the driveway, joined by another luxury sedan I recognized immediately—it belonged to Julian Vance, a predatory real estate attorney and distant relative of my mother’s side of the family.
I walked into the foyer to find Linda sitting in the living room, sipping tea. She looked completely transformed from the panicked woman of yesterday. She was wearing a sharp business suit, holding a stack of legal documents, with Julian sitting across from her with a leather briefcase open.
“Ethan,” Julian said smoothly, standing up to extend a hand. I ignored it completely. “We need to discuss the legal standing of this property and your financial obligations to your mother.”
“You have five minutes before my security team removes you for trespassing, Julian,” I said coldly.
Julian chuckled condescendingly. “Not so fast, Ethan. Linda moved in here ten months ago at your explicit written request via email. Under Texas property law, she has established legal tenancy. Furthermore, she provided sweat equity and domestic management services under an implied verbal contract for family support. You cannot simply throw your aging mother onto the street without due process.”
Linda leaned back, a smug smile returning to her lips. “I raised you, Ethan. You think you can throw me out like trash? If you push this, Julian will file a civil claim against you for breach of care and emotional distress. I’ll make sure every engineering firm in Texas knows how you treat your mother.”
I looked at Julian, then at my mother. I slowly pulled out my tablet from my briefcase and opened a fresh document.
“Julian,” I began, my tone icy and precise. “Are you aware that as a licensed civil engineer on state-funded infrastructure projects, I am legally required to report all financial crimes exceeding $10,000 involving my personal estate to prevent extortion risks?”
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Julian’s smile faltered slightly. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn't just audit my credit card,” I said, projecting my tablet screen to the smart TV in the living room. “Last night, my forensic accountant reviewed the $5,000 monthly transfers over the last year. Linda didn't just hoard $38,000. She forged my signature on a secondary mortgage application for this very house three months ago.”
