Chapter 10 - REBUILDING THE WALLS
10 -
A month after the legal dust settled, I decided the house needed a physical transformation to match the emotional cleansing we had undergone.
Every room still carried faint, invisible echoes of the two years Gertrude and Hailey had spent nitpicking my housekeeping, rearranging my furniture, and treating my home like a boarding house. While Brandon was sitting in a federal holding facility awaiting transfer to Arizona, I hired a professional interior design team to completely renovate the main living spaces—on my terms, with my money, and according to my exact aesthetic.
The contractors started on a Monday morning.
Unlike the secret, forged renovation plans Brandon had tried to push through with the architect, this project was open, transparent, and entirely empowering. We knocked down a non-load-bearing wall between the old formal dining room and the kitchen to create a bright, open-concept family gathering space where Skylar and I could cook, eat, and do homework together without anyone being relegated to a dark corner.
As I walked through the dust-filled rooms wearing a protective dust mask and safety goggles, my phone rang.
It was an unknown number with an Arizona area code.
I paused, peeled off my dust mask, and stared at the screen. For a brief second, I considered ignoring it. Then, realizing that no matter what Brandon or his family tried next, they had zero legal leverage left, I swiped to answer.
“Charlotte?”
The voice on the other end was rough, tired, and unmistakably broken. Brandon.
“How did you get this number, Brandon?” I asked, my voice flat and devoid of any warmth or anger.
“I’m calling from the intake facility in Tucson,” he mumbled, sounding smaller and more pathetic than I had ever heard him. “My public defender says... she says the plea deal is final. I’m scheduled for transfer to the federal correctional facility tomorrow morning.”
“I’m aware,” I replied evenly. “Your legal counsel sent me the signed court filings yesterday.”
There was a long, agonizing pause on the line. Through the static, I could hear the faint clatter of heavy metal doors slamming in the background—the sobering soundtrack of a life completely self-destructed.
“Charlotte, please,” Brandon whispered, a desperate crack forming in his voice. “Can we talk about... can we talk about the house? Hailey told me you’re remodeling the kitchen. That was supposed to be our investment property. Is there any way... any way we can work something out before I’m locked away for four years?”
I let out a quiet, cold laugh that echoed off the bare studs of the unfinished kitchen walls around me.
“Work something out, Brandon?” I repeated, my tone razor-sharp. “You spent two years systematically draining my accounts, forging my signature on fraudulent deeds, conspiring with your mother to abuse an elderly relative for cash, and forcing my eleven-year-old daughter to sit in the dark eating instant noodles while you feasted on king crab.”
“I made mistakes!” he cried out defensively. “Everyone makes mistakes! We were under financial pressure—!”
“No, Brandon,” I interrupted firmly. “You didn't make mistakes. You made calculated, malicious choices. And now you get to live with the exact consequences of those choices. Do never call this number again. Any future communication regarding our divorce or asset division must go entirely through our respective attorneys.”
“Charlotte, wait, don't hang up—!”
I hit the red disconnect button, silencing his voice instantly.
I didn't block the number immediately; I wanted him to stare at his phone screen and realize that the line was permanently dead. I dropped the phone into my pocket, picked up a roll of blue painter’s tape, and went back to helping the contractors measure the new kitchen island.
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Brandon was gone from our lives forever. His mother and sister were scattered to the winds. The debt they had tried to saddle me with had been nullified by the federal fraud investigation, and my grandfather’s house was legally, securely, and permanently protected under my sole ownership.
We had survived the storm. And our new foundation was poured in concrete that no parasite could ever crack.
