Chapter 9 - Eviction and Truth
By 10:00 AM, the convoy was ready to roll.
The guests left with bowed heads, too embarrassed to make eye contact with me. Aunt Carol pressed a tearful envelope into my hand with an apology note inside. Cousin Michael gave me a solemn hug and whispered, "I’m proud of you for standing your ground, Becca."
Then came Diane and Olivia.
My mother stood on the front porch, her suitcase at her feet, looking at the house she had tried to barter away.
"You’re dead to me, Becca," Diane spat, her bitterness completely stripping away any remaining maternal affection. "You chose a pile of wood and stone over your own flesh and blood."
"No, Mom," I said, leaning against the doorframe, my voice calm and unshakable. "I chose the truth. I chose my self-respect. Dad spent his whole life teaching me that a foundation built on lies will collapse under the first heavy winter. You spent thirty years shielding Olivia from every consequence of her actions, and all it did was build a monster."
Cole Vance stood beside his truck at the end of the driveway, arms crossed, ensuring they left without incident.
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Olivia didn't say a word. For the first time in her life, she had no audience, no spin, and no excuses. She got into the passenger seat of her mother’s beat-up sedan, staring straight ahead as the car sputtered down the plowed mountain road and disappeared around the switchback.
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