Chapter 3 - Cold Silence and Hot Keys
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The walk to my SUV was completely silent. Clare didn't cry. She didn't scream. She simply strapped her seatbelt across her belly and stared out the passenger window. That quiet dignity broke my heart far more than hysterics ever could.
I climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and dialed a number on speakerphone.
My real estate agent, Melissa, picked up on the second ring.
"Ian? Is everything alright?"
Melissa was a relentless professional. I had used her services to secure the commercial leases for two of my restaurants. She was precise, icy under pressure, and brilliant at her job.
"Melissa, I need you to list the residential property on Brookfield Avenue," I said calmly.
"The house your parents are living in?" she asked, pausing.
"I have the property file pulled up right now. What's the timeline?"
"List it immediately. Tomorrow morning."
Melissa inhaled sharply over the line.
"Ian, today is Saturday. I can get the paperwork finalized tonight, but the sign won't go into the lawn until Monday at dawn."
"Monday at dawn works," I replied.
Clare turned her head toward me, her eyes wide with shock.
"Ian... are you sure about this?" she asked softly.
I looked back toward my parents' house through the windshield. My father was casually fishing Tessa's leather shoe out of the pretzel bowl, patting my sister on the shoulder as if she were the victim.
"Are your current occupants prepared to vacate?" Melissa asked smoothly.
"They will be," I said.
"List it at full market value. I want the asset liquidated as fast as humanly possible."
"Do they know you're doing this?" Melissa inquired.
"No," I answered flatly.
"They have no idea."
Melissa clicked her keyboard twice.
"Understood. I will bring two 'For Sale' signs on Monday morning."
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"Why two?" I asked.
"Because," Melissa replied with a sharp grin in her voice, "I have a strong feeling someone is going to destroy the first one."
