Chapter 4 - The Eviction Notice
At 6:00 AM the following morning, the sun had barely risen over the Chicago skyline. The condo was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator.
I sat at the dining room table, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, drinking black coffee. Beside my cup was a thick Manila folder containing printed screenshots of the video footage, certified medical reports from the emergency doctor who had visited us at midnight, and a formal Legal Notice to Quit.
The guest room door clicked open. Evelyn stepped out, wearing a silk robe. She had spent the night assuming I would calm down, as I always had in the past. She believed that after a night’s sleep, my ingrained filial guilt would kick in, and I would come apologizing for how I spoke to her in front of her friends.
She put on a weary, sorrowful expression, holding her hip as she limped slowly down the hallway.
“Alex...” she moaned softly, putting a hand to her forehead. “My chest felt so tight last night. I barely slept a wink. The disrespect you showed me... it almost gave me a stroke. You need to apologize to Mrs. Higgins and the council members today, or my reputation is completely ruined.”
I didn't answer. I simply took a sip of my coffee and watched her act.
Seeing my silence, she took it as a sign of submission. She walked toward the kitchen island. “Where is my lemon water? Has Maya not made breakfast yet? Tell her to make poached eggs and whole-wheat toast. And tell her to clean up the living room before eleven; I have an appointment.”
“Maya is asleep,” I said coldly. “And she will never make you another meal for as long as you live.”
Evelyn stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowing. “What did you just say to me?”
I opened the Manila folder and tossed three large printed photographs onto the table.
Evelyn glanced down casually, but the moment her eyes registered the images, her face went ghostly pale.
The first photo was a high-resolution frame of her grabbing the boiling kettle and deliberately pouring it onto Maya’s arm. The second was a frame of her stepping on Maya’s hand while she lay burning on the floor. The third was a clear shot of her standing completely upright, tossing her walking cane onto the couch while dancing to music in the living room when no one was home.
“You... you put cameras in my home? You spied on your own mother?” Evelyn gasped, her voice trembling, though this time it wasn't an act. It was pure, unadulterated fear.
“It’s my home, Evelyn. Not yours,” I said, standing up. I towered over her, my shadow falling over her small frame. “You pretended to be sick, crippled, and helpless to leech off my success. You manipulated my love for you, made me feel guilty for your bitter, lonely life, and used that guilt to turn my wife and daughter into your personal slaves.”
“Alex, listen to me!” Evelyn panicked, reaching out to grab my sleeve. “She’s lying to you! She provoked me! She was disrespecting me every single day! I am your mother, Alex! I gave birth to you! I suffered for twenty years to raise you after your father left us! You owe me!”
“I owed you respect. I owed you care in your old age,” I said, slamming my fist onto the table. The sharp noise cracked through the room like a gunshot. Evelyn jumped back, terrified. “I gave you a luxury home, a unlimited credit line, and a family that loved you. And in return, you tortured my wife and burned my five-year-old child!”
“It was an accident with Chloe!” she screamed. “I didn't mean for the water to be that hot! I was just teaching her a lesson! She was being disrespectful!”
“She is five years old!” I shouted, my voice breaking with pure fury. “She has second-degree burns on her hands because of you!”
I picked up the Legal Notice to Quit and shoved it into her chest.
“You have one hour,” I said, my voice dropping to a icy whisper. “Pack one suitcase. Take your clothes and leave.”
“One hour? You’re throwing your mother out onto the street? In the middle of the morning?” Evelyn sobbed, falling to her knees, clutching my trousers. “Alex, please! Where will I go? I have no money! I gave up my apartment in Ohio!”
“You have the three thousand dollars a month I’ve been depositing into your personal bank account for the past year,” I said, stepping back so her hands slid off my legs. “You can go to a hotel. Or you can go stay with your wealthy friends from the Heritage Society—the ones you were bragging to yesterday.”
“They won't take me in!” she wailed.
“That is not my problem,” I said, looking down at her with complete detachment. “If you are not out of this apartment by 7:15 AM, the police officers waiting downstairs in the lobby will come up and execute an arrest warrant for felony child abuse and aggravated assault.”
Evelyn stared at me, realizing for the first time in thirty-four years that her grip over me was completely broken. The guilt trap had been destroyed.
She didn't cry anymore. Her expression hardened into a bitter, hateful scowl. She scrambled up off the floor, her limp completely gone.
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“You will regret this, Alex Vance,” she hissed, her eyes burning with malice. “I built you, and I can destroy you. I will tell everyone in Chicago what kind of monster you are. I will destroy your career, your reputation, and your marriage!”
“Try it,” I said. “Now start packing.”
