Chapter 3 - THE DEMOLITION OF MADISON
Madison scrambled across the floor, snatching her dead phone—which had miraculously flickered back to life as it reconnected to the cloud via the kitchen repeater—and opened her inbox.
The newest message was timestamped at 9:15 a.m.
Sender: Apex Global Legal Compliance & Internal Audit
Subject: CEASE AND DESIST / FRAUDULENT LEASE AGREEMENT DISCOVERY
Madison tapped it open, her eyes darting across the lines. As she read, her lower lip began to tremble, not with sorrow, but with the terrifying realization of a trap snapping shut around her throat.
"What is this?" she choked out. "The apartment... my luxury loft on the west side..."
"Your lease was never in your name, Madison," I said smoothly from the tablet screen. "Dad signed as the guarantor using my credit score and my secondary corporate guarantee. Since Dad's assets are currently frozen under a federal fraud investigation, the property management company has been automatically notified of identity misrepresentation and fraudulent guarantor assignment."
Madison stared at the phone in horror. "They... they can't evict me! I have clothes there! My designer bags! My entire wardrobe!"
"The bailiff is scheduled to arrive at noon," I replied, checking my watch with exaggerated boredom. "You have about two hours and forty minutes to pack your belongings into trash bags. Make sure you don't leave any clutter on the rug. I hear management is strict about property damage."
Catherine rushed to the tablet, shoving Richard aside. Her face was contorted into a mask of desperate, pleading maternal anguish—the exact expression she used to wear whenever she wanted me to feel guilty for buying myself a new winter coat.
"Victoria, sweetheart, please," Catherine sobbed, forcing her voice into a high, trembling register. "Look at us. We’re your parents. Whatever mistakes were made... whatever happened in the kitchen three weeks ago... that was just family stress! We were all under so much pressure! You can't throw your own flesh and blood out onto the street! Think of your sister, she has her entire social media career—"
"My sister," I interrupted, my voice cutting through her performance like a scalpel, "is a twenty-two-year-old parasite who hasn't worked a single honest hour in her life. And you, Catherine, spent twenty years teaching her that other people exist to fund her laziness while you stood by with a glass of warm water."
I leaned closer to the camera lens.
"The water tasted terrible, by the way."
Richard’s face purpled. He grabbed a heavy ceramic fruit bowl off the counter and hurled it directly at the hallway table.
Crash.
The iPad shattered into a spiderweb of glowing pixels, the screen cutting to black with a high-pitched electronic whine.
The kitchen went dead silent once more, save for the hum of the refrigerator.
"Pack," Richard snarled, his chest heaving as he pointed a shaking finger at his daughters. "Pack everything. We’re going to Uncle Gary’s place in the mountains. We’ll stay there until this blows over. We’ll hire a real lawyer. We’ll break her."
Catherine didn't move. She was staring at the front door.
May you like
Because outside, pulling up the long gravel driveway of the Miller household, wasn't a moving van.
It was a pair of county sheriff cruisers, their light bars flashing a silent, ominous red and blue against the living room curtains.
