They laughed at my spreadsheets. They didn’t know that every line was proof.
They didn’t hate me. Hatred presupposes that you are recognized. They didn’t see me. I was the infrastructure. Invisible as long as everything worked.
And it was their mistake.
Because when you treat someone as a tool, you forget that the tool has no loyalty. It breaks. And when it breaks, everything falls apart.
On the evening of the will reading, Caleb approached me, already drunk with power.
He told me about his plans. Starting with the gîte.
« I emptied it this morning. I make it a VIP lounge. »
My stomach knotted.
« Mrs. Higgins lives there, » I recalled.
She was 82 years old. Friend of my grandmother. Protected by a promise.
« Not anymore, » he replied. « I rehoused her in a motel. We need to optimize assets. »
At that moment, it was no longer a question of money. It was a question of limits.
Then he fired me.
One month to leave. And that evening, cleaning up the spilled champagne « to be useful one last time ».
I watched him walk away, convinced that he was untouchable.
He had just crossed the final line.
So I opened the envelope.
I stepped into the center of the room.
« Excuse me, » I said. « Before continuing, there is an administrative detail to be settled. »
I took out the property deeds.
The originals.
Recorded three years earlier.
Marcus has looked at them. His face turned pale.
« Richard… they are authentic. »
I have spoken.
« Grandma Eleanor placed the entire estate in a trust three years ago. A trust of which I am the sole administrator. »
Absolute silence.
I have detailed. Caleb’s debts. The containment account I had created to avoid collapse. Leases. Payments.
And finally, the eviction notice.
For Caleb.
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