Chapter 8 - The Foreclosure & The Auction
On February 1st at 10:00 AM, the judicial foreclosure auction for 142 Elm Street took place on the steps of the county courthouse.
It was a cold, overcast morning. A small group of real estate investors and legal representatives stood gathered in a semicircle around the county sheriff, who held the auction ledger.
Standing at the edge of the crowd were my father and Marcus. They were wearing heavy coats, their faces haggard, their eyes sunken. They had come to watch the final, legal execution of the home they had lived in for fifteen years.
My mother couldn't even bear to attend; she was sitting in a rented moving truck parked down the street, surrounded by whatever clothes and personal items they had managed to pack into cardboard boxes.
"Notice of Judicial Foreclosure Sale!" the Sheriff called out, his voice booming over the cold air. "Property located at 142 Elm Street. Opening bid set by primary mortgage lienholder, Vance Capital Holdings LLC, in the amount of $340,000!"
The crowd of investors murmured quietly. The property was market valued at around $520,000, but with the high interest rates and necessary repairs, most buyers were hesitant to bid aggressively.
"Do I have $345,000?" the Sheriff asked.
A local property investor raised his hand. "345!"
"345,000 to the gentleman in the brown coat! Do I have 350?"
Arthur Pendelton, standing right next to me in the front row, raised his hand smoothly. "400,000."
The crowd gasped slightly. Jumping the bid by $55,000 immediately shut down any casual speculators.
The investor in the brown coat shook his head and stepped back.
"400,000 going once," the Sheriff announced, scanning the crowd. "Going twice... Sold to Vance Capital Holdings LLC for $400,000!"
With a snap of the Sheriff's clipboard, the ownership of 142 Elm Street officially transferred 100% to my private corporate entity. My parents no longer owned a single brick of the property. They were officially trespassers on my land.
My father took a shaky step forward toward Arthur. His lips were trembling.
"So... so what happens now?" my father asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long do we have to clear out the rest of the furniture?"
Arthur pulled out an official document signed by the court clerk and handed it directly to my father.
"This is a formal Notice to Vacate," Arthur said efficiently. "Pursuant to the judicial sale order, you have exactly forty-eight hours to remove all personal belongings from the premises. On February 3rd at 12:00 PM, the Sheriff's department will execute a physical lockout. Any remaining items inside the house will be considered abandoned property and disposed of."
My father looked at the paper, then slowly looked up at me. I was standing ten feet away, hands shucked in my long black wool coat, my expression completely unreadable.
"Leo..." my father choked out, tears finally streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. "You're really doing this? You're throwing your own mother and father out onto the street?"
"You threw yourselves out, Dad," I said calmly. "The moment you decided that my son was an acceptable target for your cruelty, you evicted yourselves from my life. Today is just the legal formality."
"Where are we supposed to go?!" Marcus shouted, stepping between us, his hands balling into fists. "We don't have enough money for a security deposit on a two-bedroom apartment! Everything is gone!"
"You have two hands and a job at Amazon, Marcus," I replied coldness in my eyes. "Figure it out. Just like I had to figure out how to build my life while paying for yours."
I turned my back on them, stepped into my waiting town car, and closed the door.
As the driver pulled away from the curb, I looked out the tinted window. My father was standing on the snowy sidewalk, holding the Notice to Vacate, staring blankly into space while Marcus covered his face with both hands, weeping openly in the cold.
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They had spent three years believing they were the kings of the world, ruling over a son who would endless supply them with gold.
Now, the throne was gone, the castle was seized, and the king was wearing rags.
