Chapter 6 - The Sale
Spring arrived, bringing warm sunshine that melted the last of the snow in Maplewood.
In front of the grand, sprawling house that Daniel used to call his kingdom, a massive wooden sign was pounded into the grass.
"FORECLOSURE AUCTION."
Daniel parked his beat-up, used sedan across the street, wearing a cheap suit he had bought off the rack.
He watched as strangers walked through the front doors of his former home.
They were inspecting the expensive hardwood floors, tapping on the marble countertops, and laughing in the living room.
The living room where he had closed the door on his own mother.
His stomach churned with a mixture of intense nausea and overwhelming regret.
He had tried to find a job that matched his imaginary "CEO" status, but no reputable firm would hire him.
His resume was filled with empty titles from shell companies his mother had secretly funded.
Without her money, he was completely unqualified for the executive lifestyle he demanded.
He was currently working as an assistant manager at a mid-level logistics company, earning a fraction of what he used to spend in a single month.
He watched a wealthy couple step out onto the porch, pointing at the exact spot where Margaret had stood holding the turkey.
A sharp, agonizing memory flashed through Daniel’s mind.
He remembered the cruel joke he had made on the phone that night.
"Money can't buy her a spot here."
The absolute irony of those words hit him so hard he physically gasped for air.
Money was the only reason he ever had a spot there in the first place.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened his contact list.
He had tried calling Margaret from fifty different numbers over the last few months.
Every single one had been blocked instantly.
She had hired a private security firm to ensure he never stepped foot near her property.
He was a complete ghost to the woman who gave him life.
A sleek black Mercedes pulled up to the curb, and Claire stepped out, looking absolutely miserable.
She was meeting the bank representatives to sign the final surrender documents.
Daniel opened his car door and walked across the street, hoping for a shred of sympathy.
“Claire,” Daniel said softly as he approached her on the sidewalk.
She stopped, looking at him with eyes completely devoid of love or respect.
“Sign the divorce papers, Daniel,” she said, her voice flat and cold.
“I’m not fighting you for money, because we both know you don't have a single dime to your name.”
“I’m trying to fix this, Claire,” he pleaded, reaching out to touch her arm.
She yanked her arm away as if he were carrying a disease.
“You can’t fix this, Daniel,” she sneered, walking past him toward the house.
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“You threw away a billionaire mother to impress a bunch of snobs, and now you are nothing.”
Daniel stood on the sidewalk alone, watching his wife walk away to surrender his dream home to the bank.
