At his office in downtown Chicago, he reviewed the deed, the transfers, the lease agreement.
“Legally, there’s no question,” he said, removing his glasses.
“The house belongs entirely to you.”
“Your son and his wife are tenants. Her mother… is just a tolerated guest.”
“And my tolerance is running out,” I replied quietly.
We prepared two documents.
The first: an updated lease agreement for Alexander and Emily.
No third party could live in the house without my written consent.
They signed it—relieved.
The second…
Was for Patricia.
A formal notice.
Fifteen days to leave.
Or face legal action.
Cold.
Clear.
Legal.
The notice would be delivered the same day as the party.
And now—
Here we were.
In the living room I had paid for.
With her tacky decorations.
Patricia thought she was in control.
“You look tense, Cathy,” she smirked.
“Did the truth bother you?”
“Money can’t buy class, sweetheart.”
I smiled slightly.
“You’re right about one thing, Patricia. Money can’t buy class.”
“But it does buy houses.”
“And this one…”
“I bought.”
I opened the folder.
Pulled out the first page.
A copy of the deed.
My name.
Bold.
Right there.
I placed it in the center of the table.
“‘Catherine Reed—Owner,’” one of the relatives read aloud.
Alexander exhaled deeply.
Like a window had just opened.
“Funny how that works,” I said, looking at Patricia.
“Turns out I didn’t just pay…”
“I signed.”
“All of it.”
Her fan stopped mid-air.
For the first time…
She lost her rhythm.
“That’s just a formality,” she snapped, though her voice wavered.
“My daughter and your son live here. This is their home. You can’t just—”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” I cut in.
“Because someone confused being a guest… with being the owner.”
“And it needs to be clarified.”
I pulled out the second document.
A white envelope.
Her name printed clearly:
Patricia Collins
I held it up for everyone to see.
“I didn’t come here to argue,” I said calmly.
“I came to inform you.”
Alexander stepped forward.
I raised my hand. He stopped.
No one spoke.
Even the music seemed to fade.
I placed the envelope in front of her.
Slowly.
“This arrived this morning,” I said.
“It’s for you.”
“You should read it here. In front of everyone.”
“No misunderstandings that way.”
Her hands hesitated.
Her eyes moved from the envelope…
To my face.
Looking for a crack.
She didn’t find one.
She tore it open.
The entire room held its breath.
And when she reached the first line—
The color drained from her face.
PART 2