Chapter 6 - INTO THE COLD
Wednesday morning brought a bitter, biting wind that swept across the plains, perfectly matching the stark reality of eviction day. At 8:00 AM sharp, Howard Jenkins arrived at the estate with a locksmith and a private security detail. Maren and Pamela had already fled, refusing to suffer the indignity of being escorted off the premises. They had taken Leo and whatever luxury goods they could stuff into Pamela’s remaining car, retreating to Maren’s modest townhouse on the edge of town—a far cry from the ten-million-dollar mansion they had claimed as their kingdom.
Dylan was the only one left. He sat on the front steps, an overnight bag at his feet, staring blankly at the gravel driveway. When the locksmith began drilling the heavy brass locks of the front doors, Dylan didn't flinch. He handed his keys to Howard without a word, a hollow shell of the arrogant man who had once allowed his mother to be banished from his life.
With nowhere else to go, Dylan found himself standing in the rain outside my high-rise apartment building that afternoon. He didn't try to force his way past the concierge. He simply waited, soaked to the bone, hoping for a glimpse of me. When I came down to the lobby hours later, dressed for an evening gala, I saw him shivering near the revolving doors.
I walked over to him, my heels clicking sharply against the polished granite floor. "You look pathetic, Dylan," I said, my tone brisk but not cruel.
"I have nowhere to go, Mom," he whispered, looking down at his wet shoes. "Pamela officially filed for separation this morning. Maren won't even let me in the door to see Leo. They said until I can prove I have a steady income and a proper residence, I'm useless to them."
"And what did you expect?" I asked, crossing my arms. "You allowed them to treat me like a disposable commodity. Did you truly believe they would treat you any differently once the money ran dry?"
Dylan shook his head, a tear tracking through the raindrops on his cheek. "No. I was a coward. I let Maren dictate my life because it was easier than fighting her. I sacrificed you to buy peace in my own house, and I lost everything anyway. I don't want your money, Mom. I don't want the house. I just want my life back. I want to see my son."
I looked at my son—really looked at him. The arrogant veneer was completely stripped away. For the first time in five years, I saw the boy I had raised, the one who had once known the value of loyalty and hard work before he drowned in the intoxicating illusion of Maren's social ambitions.
"You aren't getting the house back," I stated firmly. "It's already listed for sale. And you aren't getting a bailout for your company. You are going to declare bankruptcy, and you are going to get a real job. You will start over, with your own two hands, just like your father and I did."
Dylan nodded vigorously, desperate for any lifeline. "I will. I promise. I'll do whatever it takes."
"Good," I said, reaching into my designer purse and pulling out a simple brass key. I held it out to him. "This is to a one-bedroom apartment I own in the industrial district. It has a bed, a kitchen, and a desk. No luxury amenities. No doorman. You can stay there rent-free for exactly six months while you get on your feet. But there is one condition."
May you like
Dylan took the key, clutching it like a lifeline. "Anything."
"You are going to stop letting Pamela and Maren use my grandson as a weapon," I said, my eyes narrowing with fierce determination. "You are going to fight for your parental rights, and you are going to let me handle Maren. They wanted a war over who controls Leo's future. It's time they learned what a real war looks like."
