“You all have exactly fifteen minutes to collect your personal items and leave this property immediately,” he announced.
“If anyone remains after that time, legal action will be taken and arrests will be made for trespassing,” he added.
Evelyn began to cry loudly, but I knew that her tears were not born from any sense of regret.
They were tears of pure humiliation because her friends at the country club would eventually find out the truth.
She cried because she would no longer be able to boast about living in a luxury villa in Aspen Creek.
The elaborate story she had told everyone about how her son bought this house had crumbled in front of the neighbors.
Trevor suddenly fell to his knees on the damp grass and looked up at me with hollow eyes.
“Where do you honestly expect me to go right now when I have no money in my pockets?” he asked.
I looked down at him one last time and adjusted the collar of my expensive coat.
“You can always try sleeping in the garden cellar since you said it was such a lovely place,” I suggested.
“It has plenty of light, and as you mentioned, the fresh air in Aspen Creek is truly wonderful,” I added.
The police officers began to usher the crowd toward their vehicles amidst loud shouts and frantic packing.
The vans and trucks left through the main gate one by one until the driveway was finally clear.
When the last vehicle finally disappeared from my sight, a beautiful and heavy silence returned to the house.
Six months after that cold night, Trevor was living with his mother in a cramped apartment in a suburb called Oakwood.
