My daughter kicked me out because her husband didn’t want «extra mouths to feed»…

You didn’t forget. You just stopped looking. And now she was seeing everything.

Not just who I had become, but who I’d always been. When the email came in from Chad, I almost didn’t open it. The subject line alone made my stomach churn.

We need to talk. Now. I read it.

Slowly. Carefully. His words sharp.

Frantic. And dripping with desperation. I know everything.

About the building. Out. About the inheritance.

About your little secret with Sterling. You think you’re clever? You think you can ruin my life and walk away smiling? Let me make something clear. If you don’t undo this, I will go to the press.

Your name. Your mother’s affair. Everything.

Let’s see how your precious reputation holds up when everyone knows what kind of family you really come from. I stared at the screen in stunned silence. He had finally connected the dots.

Somehow, through Amanda or his own digging, he’d discovered the truth. But I wasn’t afraid. Because I had planned for this moment since the day I bought the building.

I forwarded the email to my attorney. By the next morning, Chad received a cease and desist letter. In it were records of every threatening message he had sent to the property office, the falsified documents he tried to submit under a fake law firm, and the tampered emails we had quietly traced back to his IP address.

There were tenant complaints, maintenance sabotage logs, and even audio clips of his rants from public spaces around the building. We didn’t need to press criminal charges. Just one defamation and harassment suit was enough.

He panicked. And I knew it, because Amanda called me two days later. He’s gone, she said, her voice shaking.

Packed up while I was at work. Left a note saying he was being hunted. Said you ruined his life.

He ruined his own, I said quietly. Amanda was silent. Then, I’m sorry.

Again. Forever thinking he deserved my silence. You were scared, I replied.

I’ve been there. Fear makes you small. But you don’t have to stay that way.

It wasn’t long before Chad tried to retaliate. Posting vague rants on social media. Implying corruption.

Betrayal. He never named names. He couldn’t afford to.

Not after the second letter from my attorney threatened legal action for every word he published. He went quiet after that. Publicly, at least.

Privately, I knew he’d never forget the day he realized the woman he kicked out with two suitcases and a tired face. Now owned the roof over his head. The lease under his name.

And the keys to every locked door he once slammed in mine. Amanda, on the other hand, was transforming. She moved out of the unit within a month.

Found a small studio near her job. Started therapy. Joined a community art class…