My stepmother handed me a trash bag of my clothes and said, “Your father is d;ea;d, and the house is mine. Get out.” She slammed the door in my face while her kids laughed from the window. I was eighteen, broke, and alone. She thought that was the end of the story. She didn’t know my father had left a separate, secret will in a safety deposit box that only I had the key to. Ten years later, I bought the company she worked for. Today, I’m going to walk into her office and ask her the same question she asked me: “How does it feel to lose everything?”

She started to cry. Ugly, desperate tears that smeared her mascara.

“You can’t do this! Julian, please! I have debts! The house!”

“The house?” I asked. “The estate?”

I pulled a second document from my jacket pocket.

“You leveraged the estate to cover your losses last year. The bank was about to foreclose. So, I bought the note.”

Victoria fell to her knees. “No…”

“My real estate team is changing the locks at the estate as we speak,” I continued, my voice devoid of pity. “Chad and Brad are on the curb. They tried to take the TV, but I believe the police are handling that now.”

“My boys!” she shrieked. “They have nowhere to go!”

“They’re twenty-eight,” I said coldly. “Figure it out.”

I pointed to the trash bag.

“Pack your things, Victoria. You are terminated for gross incompetence, embezzlement, and creating a hostile work environment. There is no severance. There is no reference.”

She lunged at me, her nails raking the air. “You monster! This is cruel!”

Security caught her arms, holding her back.

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