Chapter 8 - Reclaiming What Was Lost
Two days later, I drove downtown to pick up my mother from the hotel.
When she came down to the lobby, carrying her small bag, she looked rested, but her face was pale with worry. She had seen the news on the television in her room.
"Elena..." Mom said softly, pulling me into a tight hug. "Is it true? Ethan and his mother... they were arrested?"
"Yes, Mom," I said, holding her tight. "They're gone. They will never hurt you or touch your money ever again."
We drove back to Whispering Pines Way. The sun was shining brightly, casting golden rays through the pine trees. The rain had cleared completely, leaving the sky a crisp, vibrant blue.
When we pulled into the driveway, Mom hesitated at the car door. She looked at the front porch, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. The memory of standing out there in the cold rain was still fresh.
I walked around the car, opened her door, and offered her my hand.
"Come on, Mom. Let's go home."
We walked up the porch steps together. I unlocked the door and threw it wide open.
Over the last 48 hours, I had hired a professional cleaning service to scrub the entire house from top to bottom. Diane’s heavy perfumes were gone, replaced by the fresh scent of lemon and lavender. Cole’s mess, Ava’s bags, and Ethan’s belongings had all been packed into boxes and sent to Ethan’s attorney’s office.
In the center of the dining room stood the dark walnut table. On top of it sat a crystal vase filled with fresh yellow roses—my mother's favorite flowers.
Mom walked into the room, looking around in wonder. Her eyes welled with tears, but this time, they weren't tears of shame or hurt.
"I called the county clerk’s office yesterday, Mom," I said, leading her to the table. "I officially executed a title transfer. The house deed is now registered 50/50 under your legal name, Martha Vance, and mine. You are a half-owner of this property, legally and permanently."
Mom covered her mouth, a sob escaping her chest. "Elena... you didn't have to do that..."
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"Yes, I did," I said firmly, pulling out the head dining chair—the chair Diane had claimed for herself—and guiding my mother into it. "This is your house. You built this future for me. No one will ever tell you to leave your own home again."
Mom sat down, looking out the large bay windows at the sunny garden. A peaceful smile spread across her face.
