Chapter 4 - The Phone Rings

My phone started vibrating at 6:45 a.m. I was awake, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise over my own modest, peaceful backyard.
Incoming Call: Mom Incoming Call: Mom Incoming Call: Brent Incoming Call: Dad
By 8:00 a.m., I had thirty-two missed calls and a string of frantic, increasingly aggressive voicemails. I didn't listen to a single one. I simply forwarded the audio files to my attorney, exactly as we had planned.
At 9:30 a.m., a text from Brent pushed through. “What the hell is this, Julia? Mom is having a panic attack. Did you actually send them a fake eviction notice? You’re sick. Pick up the phone.”
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I took a sip of my coffee, typed my reply, and hit send. “It’s not fake, Brent. I own the house. I have for five years. They have 30 days to vacate. Happy New Year.”
The silence that followed was deafening. I could vividly picture the scene in their kitchen—the scrambled eggs burning on the stove, Mom clutching her pearls, Brent staring at his phone in absolute, horrifying realization that the family bankroll had just cut off the supply.