The back door opened.
Russell got out first, frowning and looking haggard. He slammed the taxi door shut.
Kendra got out with difficulty, dragging a large, hot-pink suitcase.
“Honey, it’s so hot,” she whined, her voice shrill. “Why didn’t the driver come pick us up? You said you had a personal driver. What kind of honeymoon is this?
“We come back and are greeted by this suffocating heat.”
“Shut up, Kendra. Just shut up,” Russell snapped. “My head hurts.”
He was in a very bad mood.
The honeymoon—a three-day trip to Cabo with Kendra, which he had told me was a business trip to Seattle—had turned into a disaster.
The corporate card was rejected when he tried to pay for the hotel. His personal credit card—the one I always paid—was also rejected.
He could barely pay with the cash he had left.
They had to take a taxi from the airport.
It was humiliating.
And his wife, Meredith, was being strange.
She’d sent him that cryptic message about a surprise, and then her number was unavailable.
His mother’s number—his sister’s—all blocked.
He snorted.
It was just a fleeting anger.
She’d get over it.
He had already prepared his speech.
I had no choice.
Meredith, Kendra is pregnant. You have to understand. We can all live here together.
He walked to the gate and took the remote control out of his pocket.
He pressed the button.
Click.
No response.
The gate remained firmly closed.
He pressed it again. Harder.
Click.
Click. Click.
Nothing.
“The remote’s broken,” Russell cursed.
He kicked the iron fence.
“Security! Open the gate, Lopez. Open up!”
Kendra shouted from the curb, fanning her face.
“Honey, why is it taking so long? I don’t want to wait out here. People are looking at us. How embarrassing.”
Russell stalked to the security booth.
But he was surprised.
The man on duty wasn’t Mr. Lopez, the sleepy guard he usually bossed around.
This was a new man, sturdily built with an expressionless face.
“Open the gate,” Russell ordered with his usual arrogant tone. “The remote’s broken.”
The new guard stood up.
“Excuse me, sir. Who are you looking for?”
Russell stared at him.
“Who am I looking for? This is my house. Are you new? Open the gate.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard repeated, his voice firm. “This house is owned by Mr. Harrison. The handover was completed yesterday. You are not on the visitor list.”
Russell’s blood ran cold.
“Mr. Harrison? Who the hell is Mr. Harrison? This is my house—Russell Preston and Meredith Preston’s house. Don’t mess with me.”
“I’m just following orders, sir,” the guard said, unmoved. “This house was sold by the previous owner, Ms. Meredith Vance. The owner is now Mr. Harrison.
“Please leave the premises before I have to call the police.”
“Sold,” Russell’s voice went up an octave. “Sold?
“Impossible. That’s a lie. Meredith wouldn’t sell this house without my permission.”
“Honey,” Kendra said, hearing the commotion.
She immediately ran over, dropping her suitcase.
“What do you mean, sold? Honey, this is our house, right?
“You said it was your house.”
Russell was in a full-blown panic.
He started hitting the fence with his fists.
“Meredith! Come out. Don’t joke like this. Meredith!”
The main door of the imposing house opened.
But it wasn’t me who came out.
A neat-looking man in a suit—probably an assistant—approached the gate.
He looked at Russell and Kendra with cold, annoyed eyes.
“What is all this commotion?” he asked.
“Who are you?” Russell shouted. “Where is my wife? Meredith!”
“I am the assistant to Mr. Harrison, the new owner of this property,” the man replied. “Ms. Vance handed over the keys yesterday. The house is empty.
“Now, who are you? If you don’t leave, I will call the police for disturbing the peace.”
“It’s a lie. This has to be a lie,” Russell said.
Russell lost his mind trying to climb the fence, but the guard immediately stopped him.
Kendra collapsed onto the hot asphalt.
Her makeup was running with the sweat and the tears that began to flow.
“Honey… is it really sold then? Where are we going to live?
“You lied to me, Russell. You said you were rich. You said I would live here like a queen.”
“Shut up!” Russell screamed, frustrated and humiliated.
Just then, a minivan pulled up behind their taxi.
The doors opened.
Evelyn Albright, his sister, and several of Russell’s uncles got out.
They had come with cheerful, triumphant faces.
Their plan was to support Russell and Kendra. When I confronted them, they were going to pressure me into accepting Kendra as a second wife.
But what they saw was chaos.
A disheveled and angry Russell arguing with a guard, and Kendra crying hysterically on the sidewalk next to an open suitcase.
“Russell, what’s going on?” Evelyn yelled as she ran toward him. “Why are you outside? Why is Kendra crying in the street?”
Russell turned to his mother, his eyes bloodshot.
“Mom, the house. The house. It’s been sold.”
“What?” Evelyn screamed. “Sold? Impossible.
“Who sold it?”
“Meredith. Who else?” Russell wailed. “That woman sold the house behind our backs.”
Evelyn’s face—which moments ago was triumphant—turned instantly pale.
“She sold the $15 million house. How? Wasn’t it in both your names?”
“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know.”
Russell punched the gate pillar with his fist.
His hand hurt.
But his heart—his pride—hurt much more.
Now they were all on the street.
A family of rich, entitled people now looking like vagrants.
Russell, Kendra, Evelyn, and all their relatives stared blankly at the door of the luxurious house now firmly closed to them.
They had just lost their biggest asset.
Kendra continued to sob.
“I don’t know, honey. I like this house. You have to take responsibility. I’m pregnant with your child. I don’t want to suffer.”
“Shut up. Can’t you be quiet?” Evelyn yelled at Kendra. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t gotten pregnant, Russell wouldn’t have rushed this and Meredith wouldn’t have been so angry.”
“Wow. Now it’s my fault?” Kendra retorted, not caring about her image anymore. “You were the one who supported this.
“You said Meredith couldn’t have children. You said I was the ideal daughter-in-law.”
In the middle of the chaos, Russell slumped weakly onto the curb next to Kendra.
He held his head, which he felt was about to explode.
It was over.
The house was gone.
He had no money.
The credit cards were blocked.
And he was stuck with a hysterical new wife and a mother who was blaming him.
He didn’t know this was only the beginning of his nightmare.
Hysteria is an understatement.
It was a complete meltdown.
Evelyn Albright—who had arrived ready for battle—was now just a crumpled woman on a hot curb, mumbling to herself:
“It’s gone. Everything’s gone. The $15 million house.”
Kendra, for her part, had gone from pathetic crying to pure, unadulterated fury.
She got up and kicked Russell’s suitcase.
“Scammer! You said you were rich. You said I would live like a queen.
“And what is this? We’re thrown out on the street. You don’t even have a home. You lied to me, Russell.”
“Don’t you dare—shut up!” Evelyn shrieked.
She suddenly regained her strength, stood up, and pointed a bony finger at Kendra’s face.
“This is all your fault, you shameless woman. If you hadn’t seduced my son, Meredith wouldn’t have been so angry. You brought this disgrace.”
“Why is it my fault?” Kendra screamed back. “You were the most excited to marry me to Russell.
“You said Meredith was a cold-hearted witch who couldn’t have children. You said I was the ideal daughter-in-law because I was fertile.