My Parents Threw Me Out on Christmas—Then the Bank Saw Grandpa’s Box
The turkey currently sitting in Victor’s refrigerator had been paid for with my card because Helena had forgotten to order one.
Three weeks earlier, Victor had called me privately asking to borrow money.
Not much by Calloway standards.
Enough that he did not want Brielle to know.
I had transferred it the same day.
None of that mattered now.
Victor said:
“You need time to get yourself together.”
“I am getting myself together.”
“Then do it somewhere else.”
I looked at Helena.
She finally spoke.
“Maybe a little space would be good for everyone.”
There it was.
A sentence shaped like neutrality.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Victor seemed disappointed.
He had expected resistance.
Brielle definitely had.
“You’re just leaving?”
“You asked me to.”
She laughed.
“Don’t come back in three months acting like we ruined your life.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Then she added:
“And when Adrian and I take over the company, don’t suddenly remember you’re a Calloway.”
That made me stop.
Her fiancé, Adrian Vale, came from an old Wintermere family.
Polished.
Well-connected.
