CHAPTER 4: JUST DESERTS
The dining room fell into an absolute, suffocating silence once again. But this time, the crushing weight of authority belonged to me. I stood at the head of the long dining table—the seat that had belonged exclusively to my father, the seat that my mother and Chloe had always tried to dominate to assert their power.
"What was it that you two said to me ten minutes ago?" I asked, crossing my arms as I slowly walked around the perimeter of the table. The sharp click of my heels against the hardwood floor sounded like a countdown to judgment. "Ah, right. Mother told me to 'Get out of my house.' And Chloe told me, 'If you don't like it, leave.'"
My mother shook violently. For a second, it looked like she might drop to her knees, but the stubborn pride of a high-society matriarch kept her upright. "Hannah... I was wrong. I was truly wrong. But regardless of everything, I am still the mother who carried you for nine months..."
"Carried me?" I cut her off, my voice quiet but cutting through the room like a razor blade. "When you let Chloe spend Dad's money to live like royalty, did you care that I had to work three part-time jobs just to afford my college tuition? When Dad was dying in the hospital, I was the one pulling all-nighters to sit by his bedside while the two of you were out shopping and attending galas. Did you remember you were my mother then? And tonight... you slapped me in front of everyone just because I asked for fairness for Dad!"
I stopped walking, standing right behind Chloe. She flinched, pulling her neck back, not daring to look up at me.
"I am not a cruel person," I continued, my tone chillingly calm. "But I am no saint either. I don't smile and forgive the people who try to destroy me. Mr. Miller, let me ask you: under the law, do I have the right to remove individuals who are not on the deed from my property immediately?"
"You have every legal right, Miss Brooks," Mr. Miller responded instantly. "Anyone residing here without your express permission is considered a trespasser. You have the full authority to call local law enforcement to have them forcibly removed."
The moment my mother heard the word "police," her remaining composure shattered. She collapsed into her chair, sobbing hysterically. For the proud Eleanor Brooks, being escorted out of her mansion in handcuffs by the police for illegal trespassing would be the absolute social death penalty.
"I will give you both one final opportunity to save whatever dignity you have left," I said, checking my watch. "It is currently 8:00 PM. I am giving you exactly two hours. Pack your clothes and your personal belongings, and clear out of my house before 10:00 PM. Anything that belongs to this estate—from the furniture and the artwork to the designer bags bought with the money stolen from my father—you will not touch a single thread."
"Hannah! You can't be this heartless! It's pitch black outside, where are mother and I supposed to go?!" Chloe wailed, tears and mascara running down her face.
"You have an incredibly expensive sports car, Chloe. Selling it or sleeping in it sounds like a personal problem," I replied coldly. "And don't forget, Mr. Miller will be filing the lawsuit for the embezzled funds very soon. I suggest you find a good defense attorney."
I turned my gaze to Jason, who was trying to quietly slip toward the exit. "As for you, Jason. Get out of my sight right now, before I have security throw your pathetic belongings into the dumpster." Jason’s face went entirely pale, and he bolted out the front door without looking back.
The remaining guests quickly took the hint. Terrified of being caught in the crossfire, they stood up, muttered awkward apologies, and practically ran out of the house in shame. The grand dining room was left with just me, Mr. Miller, and the two women weeping on the floor.
Realizing they had lost completely, my mother and Chloe slowly dragged themselves upstairs to pack, monitored closely by a private security guard Mr. Miller had summoned to the property.
At exactly 10:00 PM, the heavy thud of suitcases echoed down the marble steps of the villa. My mother and Chloe stood by the grand entrance. They looked as if they had aged a decade in two hours, completely broken and defeated. They threw one last look at me—a mix of bitter resentment and desperate pleading, hoping I would soften at the final second.
I stood by the doorway, my arms crossed, watching them. The night wind blowing into the foyer was freezing, but my heart felt lighter and warmer than it ever had.
"Hannah... are you truly going to be this heartless to your own blood?" my mother asked one last time.
I didn't give her an answer. I slowly placed my hand on the heavy brass door handle, looked directly into her eyes, and pulled the door shut. The heavy click of the lock echoing through the hall officially closed the door on my painful past, the years of injustice, and the traitors who had cast me aside.
I turned around and walked back into the warmth of the mansion. The house was beautifully quiet now. No more screaming, no more cruelty, no more fake smiles. I walked over to the grand fireplace in the living room, where a portrait of my father hung prominently. I looked up at his smiling face, and a single tear of relief rolled down my cheek.
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"I did it, Dad. Thank you for always protecting me."
I smiled. Tomorrow, a brand-new chapter—one filled with strength and pride—would finally begin for Hannah Brooks.
