#Chapter 19 – Daddy’s House

“Please,” I say, clutching the phone and trying to explain the situation to my landlord. “You don’t understand, this is an angry former client who has no grounds for this harassment – “

My boys are at Victor’s house, meeting Amelia, thank god. I don’t want them to hear any of this.

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ms. Ortega,” my landlord’s tinny voice zings through the phone. “It doesn’t matter to me if the client’s vandalism is unfounded – what matters is that my tenant is putting me in a situation where my home is being vandalized!”

I slap my hand to my forehead. Overnight, Emily came back and spraypainted w***e LIVES HERE all over my front windows. It was everything I could do to get it scrubbed off before Victor picked up the boys, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough.

“You have six weeks,” she says, prim and cruel. “Then I’m renting to someone else, someone who doesn’t do s*x work to pay my mortgage.”

I exhale, clenching my teeth against the rage that builds inside me. Her false accusations aside, it is unfortunately within her written rights to end my lease with six week’s notice, for any reason. “Fine,” I say, unwilling to fight anymore.

She hangs up and I rest my head back against my office chair. God. What the hell was I going to do now.

The time passes too quickly. I apply – quietly, discreetly – to every open house in the area, but every one tells me no. My landlord, unfortunately, has poisoned my name and my reputation.

The night before my lease ends, I sit up, alone, in the silence of my office. I don’t want to scare the boys, but we have to be out tomorrow and we have absolutely nowhere to go.

I even asked Mark for help, and Delia. They were sympathetic, of course, but they both live in one-room apartments. Neither could offer me anything real. Delia even called her parents, in Ohio, and they said they’d be happy to take us in – but I don’t want to uproot my boys like that.

Luckily, the boys been distracted, spending so much time with their dad. I never thought I’d be grateful to him for taking them away from me.

The next day is Monday, so I pack the boys off to school. When they’re gone, I head to the realtor’s office, ready to chase up one last lead. The realtor herself is sympathetic, but the lead goes nowhere. When we arrive to view the house, the key is missing from the hide-a-key.

The realtor twists her mouth at me, clearly feeling bad. “I’m sorry, Evelyn,” she says. “Looks like they got to this one as well.”

I sigh and climb back into my car, heading home. What the hell was I going to do?

As I pull up my street, my eyes find sheer chaos. s**t s**t s**t, I think, throwing my car in park, leaping out and running towards the front door where guys are throwing my stuff – all of my stuff, the boys’ toys, my linens, the food from my fridge – onto the front lawn.

to hold them back. “You don’t understand, I’m trying to

we’re just doing our job.” With that,

through it to make sure the file aren’t corrupted. Thank god – everything, my client list, my consultations – it’s still intact. I take the box and

eye contact with Mrs. Welk, intending to thank her for driving the boys home

assure them that everything is fine. But wait – I look over the boys and realize that they’re not crying because of the house, they’re

with tiny little cuts all over. Alvin has a scraped

around me. Ian does the same, but

into my voice. “Are you okay? What happened

me. I peel them off me and stand them with their backs to the house, lest they see what’s happening and further freak out. I shush and cosset them until they calm down,

softly, gently. “What

just so horrible about you, mama,”

– you were a prota-

have a thousand boyfriends,” Ian goes on, “and that you let them do bad things with you

they give

it –“ At this Ian and Alvin start to cry harder, and I hold them close,

here, if this

anything those stupid kid at school said,

to have someone else in control. As they go, I raise my phone, intending to call a moving

and see –

over to him, pasting a sunny smile on my face. “Hey Vic! Beautiful day

“What the f**k is going on, Evelyn,” he says low, dangerous. “Why are my sons’ belongings

even here, Victor,” I say, matching his tone and mocking him. “I texted you to cancel the boys’ visit. Clearly,” I wave my hands towards my mess of a front yard, “we have other stuff

Evelyn,” he snarls, “what’s happening!?

snarling into his face. “But yeah, obviously. But, as I have done a thousand times in the past six years, I’m going to figure

Alpha need to control and dominate any situation coming out. Then he

assured. “You are now finished – my own team will come and complete this job. I will ensure

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