Linda looked at the expensive paper, confused. “A housewarming? In a trailer?”
“Bring everyone,” Sarah said, a small, cold smile touching her lips. “Aunt Marge. The cousins. Your bridge club. All fifty of them. I want everyone to see exactly where I ended up.”
“Oh, we’ll be there,” Linda sneered. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to see you serve Cheese Whiz on a cardboard box.”
Sarah nodded. She picked up her suitcase and walked to the door.
Mark watched her go. He felt a sudden, strange unease. “How are you getting there? Walking?”
“My ride is here,” Sarah said.
She opened the door. It was raining. But Sarah didn’t get wet.
A man in a black suit was standing on the porch holding a large umbrella. Behind him, idling at the curb, was a sleek, black sedan with tinted windows. It wasn’t a taxi. It was a Maybach.
The driver took Sarah’s suitcase. “Good morning, Ms. Villeroy,” he said loud enough for them to hear. “We have chilled water in the back.”
“Villeroy?” Mark frowned. “Did he call her Villeroy?”
“Probably the name of the taxi company,” Linda scoffed, returning to her TV. “She’s spending her last ten dollars on a fake limo ride to impress us. Forget her, Mark. She’s history.”
As the car pulled away, Sarah picked up the phone in the back seat.
“This is Sarah,” she said. “Activate the trust fund. Unfreeze the assets. And Mr. Henderson?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Buy the mortgage on the Miller property. I want to be the landlord.”
Chapter 3: The Caravan of Judgment
For the next three weeks, the Miller family group chat was a buzz of malicious excitement.
Linda had scanned the invitation and sent it to every relative, neighbor, and vague acquaintance she knew. The narrative was set: Sarah, the ungrateful charity case, had lost her mind and moved to a shanty town. The “housewarming” was going to be the comedy event of the year.
Aunt Marge: “Should we bring food? Poor thing probably can’t afford chips.”
Linda: “Absolutely not! I want to see what she serves. I bet it’s tap water and crackers. It will be a good lesson for Mark’s cousins: Don’t marry a gold digger who can’t dig.”
Cousin Greg: “I’m bringing my camera. This is going to be legendary.”
