“Perhaps we could discuss a lease option. Miss Foster retains ownership but allows Daniel and Jessica to remain as tenants.”
“At what rent?” Tom asked.
“Market rate for a $680,000 home in that neighborhood would be approximately $4,200 a month.”
Jessica’s mask slipped for just a second. Her eyes hardened.
“That’s ridiculous. We can’t afford that.”
“You have 47,000 in savings,” I said.
The room went very quiet.
Jessica’s face flushed.
“That’s private information. You had no right.”
“I had every right to conduct due diligence on people who were making claims about financial hardship.”
“This is harassment.” Jessica stood up, her sweet facade evaporating. “You’re a vindictive old woman who can’t stand that her son chose a wife, that he has his own life, so you’re trying to destroy us, Jessica.”
Daniel tried to pull her back down. She yanked her arm away.
“No, I’m done pretending. She’s been manipulating you your whole life, Daniel. Don’t you see? She secretly bought the house so she’d always have control over you. So you’d always be dependent on her.”
“I bought the house so my son would have a home,” I said, my voice ice cold. “A home he couldn’t afford on his own. I asked for nothing in return except basic respect.”
“You couldn’t even give me that because you don’t deserve it. You’re a controlling, manipulative Mrs. Foster.”
Rachel’s professional calm was straining.
“Please sit down.”
“Why?” so she can keep playing the victim. She has half a million dollars. She could retire tomorrow. But no, she has to punish us for one bad night. One bad night.
I stood up too, my own control finally fraying.
“You called me a beggar. You demanded my son throw me out. And he said nothing. Nothing. That wasn’t one bad night, Jessica. That was the truth finally coming out.”
“You want the truth?” Jessica’s voice was venomous now. All pretense gone. “Fine. You’re pathetic. You’re a lonely old woman who tried to buy her son’s love because you have nothing else in your life. No friends, no hobbies, just sad Sunday dinners where you try to relive the past. Well, news flash. Daniel doesn’t need you anymore. He has me. He has a real family now. and you can’t stand it.”
Daniel was pale as paper.
“Jess, stop.”
“No, she needs to hear this. She’s trying to destroy our lives because she can’t accept that she’s not the center of yours anymore.”
I gathered my purse, my hands remarkably steady.
“Tom, we’re done here.”
“Agreed.”
“Running away again?” Jessica called after us. “Just like you ran away last Sunday.”
I turned at the door.
“I gave you a house. You gave me contempt. The eviction notice stands. You have 3 weeks left.”
“We’ll sue. We have rights.”
“No,” Tom said calmly. “You don’t. See you in court if necessary, though I strongly advise you to find alternative housing instead.”
We left.
Behind us, I could hear Jessica shrieking and Rachel trying to calm her.
In the elevator, I started shaking. Tom put a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“Breathe, Margaret. Just breathe.”
“She showed her true face,” I whispered.
“She did. And it’s all documented. Rachel will have to write a report. This will only help your case.”
But I wasn’t thinking about the case. I was thinking about my son still sitting in that conference room with a woman who just revealed herself to be exactly what I’d feared.
Would he finally see it? or was he too far gone?
The shaking turned to determination.
Three weeks. They had three weeks to figure out their lives. And if Daniel still chose Jessica after this, then I’d know exactly where I stood, and I’d act accordingly.
The final confrontation came on day 29. Tom had prepared all the paperwork. The eviction would be enforceable tomorrow. I’d even found them a listing, a nice two-bedroom condo, well within their actual budget, and emailed it to Daniel.
No response.
I spent the day at the office catching up on client work I’d neglected. Staying busy, staying focused.
At 6 p.m., my secretary buzzed.
“Miss Foster, there are two people here to see you. They don’t have an appointment.”
I knew who it was before she said their names.
“Send them in.”
Daniel and Jessica entered my office. Not the Jessica from mediation. No pearls, no pink blouse. This Jessica wore jeans and a hoodie, her hair pulled back, face puffy from crying. Real crying this time.
Daniel looked worse, holloweyed, defeated.
“Mom,” he said, “Please, we need to talk.”
I gestured to the chairs across from my desk.
They sat.
My office had always been my power space. Floor toseeiling windows overlooking the city. Mahogany desk. Credentials on the wall. This was where I’d negotiated milliondoll deals. Where I’d built my reputation.