Now, as we drove toward my house, I felt surprisingly calm.
The rage had burned itself out overnight, leaving behind something cleaner and stronger.
I wasn’t just fighting for my house anymore.
I was fighting for every elderly person who’d been manipulated by family members who saw them as assets to be liquidated.
Through the car window, I could see that Nova’s family was already awake and enjoying their stolen paradise.
Someone had set up a volleyball net on my carefully maintained lawn.
Teenagers were sprawled on my porch furniture with their phones and energy drinks.
The RV’s awning was extended, creating an additional outdoor living space that blocked my ocean view.
They’d made themselves completely at home.
“Remember,” Margaret said as we pulled into the driveway. “Let them reveal themselves completely before we show our hand. The more they say, the stronger our case becomes.”
I nodded and walked toward my own front door, flanked by Margaret and Detective Morrison.
James Wright hung back with the backup officers who’d arrived in an unmarked car.
Nova answered my knock with a surprised smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Dorene, what are you doing here? And dressed so fancy.”
“I wanted to check on everyone,” I said, keeping my voice mild and pleasant. “Make sure you have everything you need.”
“Oh, we’re fine,” she said, not inviting me in. “Actually, this might be perfect timing. Patricia wanted to talk to you about some decisions we need to make.”
Decisions we need to make.
About my house, my property, my life.
I followed Nova into my own living room where Patricia was holding court from my favorite chair like an empress receiving subjects.
The entire family had gathered.
17 people crowded into my space.
All of them looking at me with varying degrees of pity, condescension, or simple indifference.
“Dorene, dear,” Patricia said in the patronizing tone people use with small children and the mentally impaired. “We’ve been talking and we think it’s time to have an honest conversation about your future.”
“My future?”
“Sit down, sweetheart,” Nova said, guiding me to a hard wooden chair while she settled comfortably on my sofa. “We’re all family here. We just want what’s best for you.”
Randall stood near the window, avoiding my eyes.
Behind him, I could see Margaret and Detective Morrison positioning themselves where they could observe through the glass.
“Now,” Patricia continued, “we’ve been looking around this house, and frankly, we’re concerned. It’s far too much for someone your age to handle. The maintenance alone must be overwhelming.”
“I manage fine,” I said quietly.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Nova laughed. “You’re not managing fine. Look at this place. When’s the last time you had the gutters cleaned? The deck needs staining. The garden is overrun with weeds.”
My garden wasn’t overrun with weeds.
I’d spent hours tending those roses, those carefully planned flower beds.
But I could see several family members nodding along with Nova’s lies.
“The thing is,” Patricia said, “we found you a wonderful solution. Sunset Manor is one of the finest assisted living facilities in the state. You’ll have your own little apartment, three meals a day, activities, people to take care of you.”
“And the best part,” Nova added, “is that selling this house will provide more than enough money to pay for it. You’ll never have to worry about finances again.”
“We’ve already spoken to some real estate agents,” Randall said, finally speaking up. “The market is really good right now. We could probably get 400,000, maybe more.”
400,000 for a house worth at least 500,000.
They weren’t even pretending to get fair market value.
“That seems low,” I said mildly.
“Oh, Dorene,” Nova said. “You have to be realistic. This place needs a lot of work before it could sell for top dollar. It’s better to price it to move quickly. After all, every month you keep it, you’re losing money on maintenance and taxes.”
“And frankly,” Patricia added, “you’re not competent to handle a transaction this complex. That’s why Randall will take care of everything for you. He has power of attorney.”
“Actually,” I said, standing up slowly. “He doesn’t.”
The room went quiet.
Nova’s smile faltered slightly.
“What do you mean?” Randall asked.
“I mean, you have power of attorney for healthcare decisions only, and only if I’m incapacitated. I’m not incapacitated, and this isn’t a healthcare decision.”
Nova’s laugh sounded forced.
“Dorene, sweetie, you’re being silly. Of course, Randall can help you with financial decisions. You’re clearly not thinking straight.”
“Actually,” I said, pulling my phone from my purse, “I’m thinking more clearly than I have in years.”
I pressed a button and suddenly my voice filled the room.
The conversation from yesterday, playing back through hidden speakers Margaret’s team had installed.
“The beauty of it is she thinks this was all her idea. I’ve been planting seeds for months about how hard it must be to maintain such a big house, how worried we are about her safety. Now she’s actually grateful that we’re helping her make better decisions.”
Nova’s face went white.
Patricia’s mouth fell open.
Around the room, confused murmurs started as family members realized what they were hearing.