Kicked Out For My Sister’s Baby I Returned Rich Chapter 10
Trent went everywhere he thought I might have gone.
My old company. The coffee shops I used to frequent. The homes of my college friends. He even tracked down relatives on my mother’s side I hadn’t spoken to in years.
No one knew where I was.
My number was disconnected, my social media deleted, my emails unanswered. Every path that might have led to me had been cut off by my own hand.
Trent kept taking time off work, then began missing entire days. By the time he finally stumbled back into the office, hollow-eyed and distracted, HR simply handed him a termination letter.
“Your absences have seriously affected your performance. The company will not be giving you another chance.”
He wanted to explain.
Then he realized he couldn’t even bring himself to say why I had left.
A few months later, a court summons arrived.
Regina had formally sued him for child support.
The childcare expenses she’d listed were staggering: medical bills, daycare costs, every line itemized. The woman who’d once seemed so light and thrilling now sat behind a lawyer, laying out charge after charge against him.
Meanwhile, Gordon and Marlene never found me to clean up their mess.
Once the tax deadline passed, the penalties kept mounting. When winter came, the pipes in the old house burst from lack of maintenance. Water ran down the walls and into the downstairs unit, ruining the hardwood floors and the ceiling.
Only then did Gordon remember the insurance had already been canceled.
There would be no payout, no repair money, and no one to make the calls, compare quotes, or line up contractors for them.
Marlene stood in the soaked, ruined living room and broke down sobbing.
“Thea never would have let this happen!”
But I wasn’t there anymore.
In the end, the red-brick duplex they’d once used to control me had to be sold as-is, at a loss, to an investment company.
On moving day, Gordon watched in silence as workers pried the address numbers off the front of the house.
On moving day, Gordon watched in silence as workers pried the address numbers off the front of the house.
He and Marlene moved into a cramped rental apartment. Once the old couch was in the living room, there was barely room to turn around.
A year later, Trent came knocking for money again.
“Child support is taking most of my income. I don’t have money to help you with rent.”
“The house only had to be sold because of you and Regina!” Gordon roared, slamming the table. “If it weren’t for the two of you, Thea never would have left!”
“You were the one who drove her out!”
Their voices rang through the low-ceilinged living room. Nearby, Marlene sat paging through a stack of overdue bills, her face ashen.
Gordon looked away in anger and clicked open a local business news site on his laptop.
The next second, he went completely still.
On the front page was a face both familiar and strange.
The headline was so bold it hurt to look at—
Second Door: How Founder Thea Holloway Turned Household Management Into an Art
“Marlene…”
Gordon’s voice shook.
“Come look at this.”
Marlene lunged toward the laptop. Trent stopped arguing and hurried around the couch.
In the photo, I stood in a bright, spacious office, wearing a sharply tailored suit. Behind a glass wall, employees moved with a neat, busy rhythm. On the wall hung the company logo: Second Door.
I looked straight into the camera, calm and composed, with a quiet smile.
No exhaustion. No need to please anyone. No trace of waiting for someone else’s approval.
The article said my company specialized in helping clients relocate, downsize, and hand off household responsibilities, and that the business had already spread into multiple cities.
The skills they had demanded of me, the ones they’d mocked as meddling, had become my career.
The article said my company specialized in helping clients relocate, downsize, and hand off household responsibilities, and that the business had already spread into multiple cities.
The skills they had demanded of me, the ones they’d mocked as meddling, had become my career.
The three of them stood crowded around the laptop without a word.
Trent stared at the photo for a long, long time—until the screen dimmed.
Only then did he say hoarsely,
“She changed.”