Chapter 11 - Ghosts of Bayside HeightsBy the end of the first month, Gertrude realized her legal options had evaporated. Battered by public humiliation, financial ruin, and the looming threat of actual prison time for dependent endangerment and fraud, she attempted a final, desperate tactic: emotional blackmail.
She arrived at the front gate alone, unannounced, wearing a plain black coat without her usual jewelry. Through the intercom camera, I watched her stand shivering in the autumn wind, staring up at the lens with watery, bloodshot eyes.
I pressed the talk button. "You’re wasting your time, Gertrude. The gate isn't opening."
"Ethan, please," her voice cracked through the speaker, sounding old and genuinely frail for the first time. "I raised you alone after your father died. I gave up everything for you. How can you throw me out into the street like a stray dog?"
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"You didn't give up anything," I replied calmly, my heart steady as stone. "You took everything. You took five years of my life, you took my wife’s health, and you nearly starved my son to death while playing queen with my money. The only reason you aren't spending the next ten years in a federal penitentiary right now is because Sarah asked me to spare you the prison uniform. Take what's in your suitcases and go."
The screen flickered as she slowly turned away, her head bowed under the weight of her own unyielding greed.
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