Chapter 7 - The Final Ultimatum
Two days later, the rain set in over Chicago—a cold, steady drizzle that turned the asphalt dark and slick. I was sitting in my favorite leather armchair in the newly repainted living room of my Evanston home, holding a cup of hot chamomile tea. The heavy oak doors had been fitted with brand-new smart locks, and the security cameras covering the perimeter were fully active.
My phone chimed on the coffee table. It was an intercom alert from the front gate camera.
I tapped the screen.
Standing on the porch, huddled beneath a single black umbrella, were Daniel and Eleanor. They looked entirely different from the arrogant, untouchable pair who had mocked me just days ago. Daniel’s hair was uncombed, his expensive track suit wrinkled and damp from the rain. Eleanor looked frail, her floral robe replaced by a heavy, oversized wool coat, her face pale and drawn.
They had nowhere to go. Friends had stopped answering their calls once word got out that Daniel was broke and facing massive corporate default lawsuits. Extended relatives had slammed doors in their faces when they asked for emergency housing loans.
I pressed the audio button on my phone and spoke clearly into the microphone.
“You’re trespassing on private property. Step away from the door, or I will have the authorities remove you.”
Daniel’s face popped up close to the camera lens, distorted by the wide-angle lens, his expression desperate and tear-stained.
“Mariana, please!” Daniel begged, his voice cracking through the intercom speaker. “Just let us in for five minutes! Let us talk! We have nowhere to stay, the hotel wouldn’t take our cards, we’ve been sleeping in the car for two nights!”
Eleanor pushed her way into the camera frame, her previous pride completely shattered, her voice trembling with manufactured humility.
“Mariana, my dear... please have mercy,” Eleanor cried, pressing her hands together in a pleading gesture. “I’m an old woman! I need my medication! We made a mistake, we were foolish, but family is family! Please don’t do this to us!”
I took a slow sip of my tea, savoring the warmth, before pressing the microphone button again.
“Family,” I repeated, my voice ice-cold. “When your son held me down while you shaved my head in my sleep, was that family? When you told me my place was on my knees scrubbing your floors, was that family?”
Silence hung heavily through the speaker.
“You didn’t want a wife or a daughter-in-law,” I continued. “You wanted a perpetual bank account wrapped in a domestic servant. Well, that account is permanently closed.”
Daniel slumped against the porch pillar, burying his face in his hands as quiet, broken sobs wracked his frame. Eleanor stood beside him, staring blankly at the locked front door, finally understanding that no amount of manipulation, guilt-tripping, or fake tears was ever going to work again.
“There is an envelope taped to the inside of the mailbox,” I said calmly.
Daniel’s head snapped up toward the camera.
“What... what’s in the envelope?” he whispered.
“It contains two one-way bus tickets to Cincinnati, where your cousin Marcus lives, and a single prepaid debit card with exactly five hundred dollars on it,” I replied. “It is enough to get you out of my city and give you forty-eight hours to figure out how adults actually survive in the real world.”
I paused, watching them through the high-definition lens.
“Take the envelope and walk away. Because if you are still standing on my property in ten minutes, the police won't just remove you—they’ll arrest you for stalking and trespassing.”
May you like
I released the intercom button, set my teacup down on the wooden table, and leaned back in my chair.
Through the camera view, I watched Daniel slowly stumble down the porch steps, reach into the metal mailbox, and pull out the thick white envelope. Eleanor followed him, her head bowed in permanent defeat. They walked down the wet driveway toward a beat-up rental car parked at the curb, got inside, and drove away into the gray Chicago rain without ever looking back.
