Chapter 3 - The Tour of Indifference
The walk through the grand foyer of the Atherton estate was nothing short of a masterclass in architectural elegance, though the atmosphere inside was currently vibrating with the frantic, high-pitched panic of five displaced freeloaders.
Through the arched entryway leading from the formal living room, Vanessa could be seen marching back and forth across the hardwood floors, her phone pressed so hard against her ear that her knuckles were entirely bloodless. She was attempting to whisper, but her voice carried through the open-concept floor plan like a siren.
“No, Mother, you don’t understand! He’s actually locking us out! He called a real estate agent—a woman with fake blonde highlights and a smug face—and she’s walking some old rich guy through the master wing right now!”
Arthur Pendelton didn't even blink. The silver-haired investor merely ran a hand along the polished mahogany banister of the sweeping staircase, his eyes appraising the custom crown molding and the soaring twelve-foot ceilings with the quiet appreciation of a man who owned three other properties in Aspen and Palm Beach.
"Exquisite millwork, Mr. Atherton," Arthur remarked, his voice smooth and cultured. "Did you design this layout yourself?"
"I did," Harrison replied, walking a few paces ahead, keeping his posture straight and his hands relaxed in his pockets. "Every line, every timber angle. I wanted something that felt substantial. Something that wouldn't shift when the ground got wet."
Diana shot Harrison a quick, sideways glance filled with absolute professional admiration. She had handled multi-million-dollar listings from Asheville to Wilmington, but there was something uniquely satisfying about watching a client systematically dismantle a family of parasitic squatters with the precision of a surgeon.
"And the master suite?" Arthur asked, pausing as they reached the second-floor landing.
Right at that moment, the door to the guest wing flew open.
Preston stood in the doorway, wearing a terrycloth bathrobe that was gaping open at the chest, exposing a pale, sunburned torso. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild.
"Harrison! What the hell do you think you’re playing at?!" Preston barked, stepping directly into the path of the prospective buyer. He didn't even bother to look at Arthur or Diana; his entire field of vision was locked onto his older brother like a heat-seeking missile. "You’ve got strangers walking through our private rooms? Vanessa is having a panic attack in the guest bathroom! Mom is crying in the kitchen!"
Arthur Pendelton raised a single, well-manicured gray eyebrow. He slowly turned his head to look at Preston, taking in the bathrobe, the unkempt hair, and the distinct aura of mid-afternoon desperation.
"I take it," Arthur said dryly, turning back to Harrison, "that the current occupants are... included in the sale?"
"No, Arthur," Harrison said smoothly, not breaking eye contact with his trembling brother. "They are non-conforming fixtures. They’ll be removed prior to closing, completely free of charge."
Preston’s face purpled. He lunged forward, his hand clawing at the lapel of Harrison’s shirt. "You arrogant little prick! You think you can just throw us out? After everything Mom and Dad gave up to raise you—after all those years of—"
Before Preston’s fingers could even make contact with the fabric, Harrison moved. It wasn't a wild, angry swing; it was the sharp, efficient defensive reflex of a man who had spent ten years working heavy leather machinery where a single moment of hesitation meant losing a thumb.
Harrison caught Preston’s wrist in a vise-like grip, twisted it outward with practiced leverage, and shoved his brother backward so hard that Preston stumbled into the doorframe of the guest room, letting out a sharp grunt as his shoulder blade slammed against the wood.
"Don't ever put your hands on me again," Harrison said. His voice didn't rise above a conversational murmur, but the air in the hallway dropped ten degrees. "You’ve had ninety days of free room, free board, free electricity, and unlimited access to a pool you didn't pay a single dime for. Your time is up."
Diana didn't flinch. She simply stepped around Preston as if he were an uncollected pile of laundry left in a hotel corridor. "Shall we look at the walk-in closet in the primary suite, Mr. Pendelton? It features custom cedar shelving and built-in jewelry vaults."
"Lead the way, Ms. Vance," Arthur said, stepping neatly over the threshold of the master wing while giving Preston a look of profound, aristocratic pity. "I must say, the neighborhood is lovely, though the local fauna leaves a bit to be desired."
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As Arthur and Diana disappeared down the hallway, Preston slid slowly down the doorframe until he was sitting on the carpet, his head in his hands, muttering curses into the plush fibers.
Harrison didn't look down at him. He simply stepped over his brother’s outstretched legs, walked into his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
