Chapter 5 - THE THREAT
Cliff stared at Adele as if she had suddenly spoken in fluent Latin. His jaw actually dropped.
“What... what did you just say to me?” he stammered, his bravado instantly wavering.
“You heard her,” I said calmly, standing up beside my daughter. “She said pack your things.”
Roberta came stomping down the stairs like a runaway freight train, her face twisted in utter outrage. “How dare you! How dare you talk to my son like that after everything he’s done for you! He gave you a family, Adele! He took you in when you were a broken, divorced mess!”
“He didn't take me in!” Adele snapped, her voice suddenly ringing out through the bungalow, loud and crisp. “I OWN THIS HOUSE! I pay for the food you eat! I pay for the hot water you burn through! You pushed my furniture into the hallway and put me on a pullout sofa in my own living room!”
“Because my back hurts!” Roberta screamed, beating her fist against her chest. “I am an elderly woman!”
“Then go to a hospital!” Adele yelled back, tears of anger finally spilling over her cheeks. “Or go to your sister in Pittsburgh! But you are NOT sleeping in my bed tonight!”
Todd stepped out into the kitchen, clutching his laptop to his chest like a shield. “Hey, calm down, everyone. Let's be reasonable here. I’ve got a major project launching next week. I can’t just pack up my dual monitors—”
“You can pack them in garbage bags for all I care!” Adele shouted, taking a step toward him. Todd shrank back half an inch. “You’ve been here for six months, Todd! You haven't paid a single dime! You eat my food, you run up my electric bill, and you treat me like a maid!”
Cliff realized the momentum had shifted dangerously against him. He quickly changed tactics, stepping toward Adele with his hands raised, trying to adopt a gentle, placating tone.
“Babe, babe... look at me,” Cliff coaxed softly, trying to reach for her hands. “You’re stressed. Your mother is manipulating you. She’s putting thoughts in your head because she wants to control you. Think about us, Adele. Think about our future.”
“Our future?” Adele scoffed, pulling her hands away from his reach. “You took seven hundred and fifty dollars out of our joint account three days ago to pay your truck note, Cliff! While I’m working forty hours a week at the dental office, picking up overtime just to cover our grocery bill!”
Cliff’s eyes darkened instantly. The soft tone vanished, replaced by a ugly, menacing sneer.
“You want to play hardball, Adele? Fine,” Cliff growled, stepping into her space until he was towering over her. “You think you can just kick us out? I’ve spent eight months doing improvements on this property. I put up those shelves in the garage. I cleaned the gutters. I’m filing a mechanic’s lien against this house tomorrow morning for thirty thousand dollars of unpaid labor!”
I let out a sharp, joyful laugh.
Cliff whipped his head around to glare at me. “What’s so funny, old woman?!”
“A mechanic’s lien requires a licensed contractor, a written contract signed by the property owner, and itemized receipts for materials,” I said, stepping between him and my daughter. “You work in operations for a building-supply company, Cliff. You aren't a licensed contractor. If you attempt to file a fraudulent lien against this property, my attorney will have you indicted for real estate fraud before the court closes at five o’clock.”
Cliff’s face turned from red to deep purple. He looked like he was about to explode.
“You think you’ve won?” Cliff hissed, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “Fine. We’ll leave. But you’re going to regret this, Adele. I’m taking everything I bought.”
“Go ahead,” Adele said coldly. “Take your protein powder and your truck. But leave my house keys on the counter.”
“Not a chance,” Cliff spat, backing toward the front door. “We’re taking our time packing. We’ll be done when we’re done. And if you touch my mother’s stuff, I’ll call the police on you for property damage!”
Cliff turned, grabbed Roberta’s arm, and stormed upstairs, slamming the primary bedroom door so hard a picture frame on the hallway wall tilted sideways.
Adele collapsed back into her kitchen chair, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “Mom... what do we do now? They’re going to destroy the house. They’re going to tear it apart upstairs.”
I walked over to the kitchen window, looking out at the driveway.
“They aren't going to tear anything apart,” I said softly.
Because down the street, two vehicles had just pulled up to the curb.
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One was a white van bearing the logo ALLEGION LOCKSMITH & SECURITY SERVICES.
The other was a dark blue county sheriff’s cruiser.
