“She threw me out after your mother’s funeral.”
He rubbed his face. “What do you want me to do?”
“For once? Nothing. I want you to watch.”
The first notice went out that evening.
Their month-to-month occupancy of my house would end in sixty days.
The second went to Eric’s company: the warehouse lease would renew at market rate instead of the heavily discounted family rate.
The third went to the bank.
I would not renew my personal guarantee when Eric’s credit line matured.
Madison called at 9:12 p.m.
“You vindictive old man,” she hissed.
I answered calmly.
“No, Madison. I’m simply no longer paying for things you insist I never paid for.”
For two weeks, Madison told everyone grief had made me senile.
She even threatened to sue me for the house, claiming years of residence gave her an ownership interest.
Denise handled every message.
Then Madison made the mistake that ended everything.
She contacted the trustee managing Eleanor’s estate and demanded an “advance” on Eric’s inheritance to cover relocation expenses and her boutique’s debts.
Attached was a spreadsheet she had prepared.
It listed more than eight hundred thousand dollars in obligations.
One entry caught my attention: a $140,000 “family loan” supposedly owed to Madison’s brother.
Eric had never mentioned it.
Denise investigated.
There was no loan.
Instead, bank records showed Madison had transferred money from Eric’s business account into her brother’s failing restaurant for nearly eighteen months.
Eric stared at the statements in my library.
