I said.
It was the first time I’d spoken to him directly since the cruiser arrived.
He looked at me.
Hatred—pure and bright—filled his eyes.
He finally saw me.
Not as his sister.
Not as a pushover.
But as the person who had beaten him.
He snatched the pen from David and scribbled his name.
He shoved the pen at my mother.
She signed beneath his, tears streaming down her face.
“Get out,”
I said.
They didn’t say a word.
Margaret stumbled to the passenger door.
Andrew got behind the wheel, face pale and sick.
He reversed so fast he nearly clipped the moving truck, then tore down the driveway, a plume of gravel dust rising behind him.
The silence afterward was absolute.
It broke only when the mover crunched across the gravel and handed me a business card.
“That was… something, ma’am,”
he said.
“Our boss is going to hear about this. If you ever need anything moved legally, you call us. And we’re… real sorry.”
“Thank you,”
I said, taking the card.
“You were very professional.”
They nodded, climbed into the big yellow truck, and rumbled away.
Sergeant Miller came over, tipping his hat.
“Ms. Gable. Mr. Chen. I’d say that was handled.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,”
David said, shaking his hand.
“Your presence made all the difference.”
“Just doing our job.”
Then he glanced at David.
“Now… about that Mr. Peters.”
“I’ve already emailed you his file,”
David said with a small smile.
“Along with a copy of the fraudulent document my client’s brother was kind enough to provide.”
“Excellent,”
Sergeant Miller said.
“I think we’ll go pay Mr. Peters a visit right now. Have a good day, ma’am.”
He and Officer Rivas climbed back into their cruiser and drove off.
Then it was just me and David on the porch.
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