She cried because she would no longer be able to boast about living in a luxury villa in Aspen Creek.
The elaborate story she had told everyone about how her son bought this house had crumbled in front of the neighbors.
Trevor suddenly fell to his knees on the damp grass and looked up at me with hollow eyes.
“Where do you honestly expect me to go right now when I have no money in my pockets?” he asked.
I looked down at him one last time and adjusted the collar of my expensive coat.
“You can always try sleeping in the garden cellar since you said it was such a lovely place,” I suggested.
“It has plenty of light, and as you mentioned, the fresh air in Aspen Creek is truly wonderful,” I added.
The police officers began to usher the crowd toward their vehicles amidst loud shouts and frantic packing.
The vans and trucks left through the main gate one by one until the driveway was finally clear.
When the last vehicle finally disappeared from my sight, a beautiful and heavy silence returned to the house.
Six months after that cold night, Trevor was living with his mother in a cramped apartment in a suburb called Oakwood.
He was working a low level data entry job for minimum wage just to afford his basic groceries.
The judge had denied his request for alimony because the prenuptial agreement was airtight and my evidence was undeniable.
I spent those months restoring my house to its original state of beauty and peace.
I cleaned every single corner, changed every electronic lock, and donated all the furniture they had touched.
I even turned the old garden cellar into a beautiful glass greenhouse filled with rare orchids.
Sometimes, in the quiet of the morning, I have my coffee while looking out at the garden.
I look at that renovated greenhouse and feel a sense of peace that I have never known in my entire life.
They honestly thought they were taking me out of my own home and taking away my dignity.
In reality, they just gave me the perfect opportunity to finally remove them from my life forever.
THE END.
