her off from her grandchildren if she complained, and forced her to hand over her monthly allowance cards, the very money I’d sent so she could finally live comfortably.
They had convinced her that because I was far away, working, unreachable in any real sense, she was a burden who needed to earn her keep in the house her own daughter had bought outright.
“They told me if I bothered you with this, you would sell the house and leave me with nothing,” she sobbed softly, her voice barely above a whisper, like even saying it out loud felt dangerous. “I just wanted to keep the family together, Natalie.”
I wiped her tears with my thumbs, took the scrub brush from where it had fallen into the bucket, and threw it hard into the yard, watching it skitter across the grass.
“You are never kneeling again, Mom,” I said, my voice dropping to an absolute icy calm that felt entirely unfamiliar coming out of my own mouth. “This house is yours, and today the parasites are leaving.”
I walked my mother inside through the back patio doors, her hand gripped tight in mine. In the living room, Kloe was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through her phone while Julian poured himself another drink at the bar, both of them entirely undisturbed by anything happening just outside their window.
When Kloe saw me, her face turned pale, the phone slipping slightly in her grip.
“Natalie, what? What are you doing here? You said you weren’t coming back until next month.”
Julian froze, holding his glass midair as he realized who I was, some slow recognition dawning behind his eyes.
“Wait, you’re the sister from Dubai?”
“I am the owner of this estate,” I corrected him, stepping into the center of the room, my voice steady even though every part of me was shaking with barely contained rage. “And I just heard you call my mother the maid in the house I paid six hundred thousand dollars cash to buy for her.”
Julian tried to regain his composure, adjusting his robe with a nervous laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look, Natalie, you’re taking things out of context. It was just a joke. Your mom likes staying busy around the house. It gives her purpose.”
“Shut your mouth,” I interrupted, pointing a finger directly at his chest, close enough that he took a small step back. “You have thirty minutes to pack your personal clothes and get out of my house.”
