Chapter 7 - The Auction Block
By autumn, the legal dust began to settle, leaving behind the hollowed-out remains of the Ellison family empire.
On a cool, crisp October afternoon, I drove back to the house in Alexandria for the first time in nearly a year.
The manicured lawn was overgrown with weeds. The bright halogen searchlights from that terrible night were gone, but the heavy oak front door still bore the metal patch where the hydraulic ram had broken through.
Standing on the driveway was a large red-and-white sign: COURT-ORDERED LIQUIDATION AUCTION.
Because Carter’s firm had been stripped of its assets to pay federal fines, and Mrs. Eleanor’s foundation had collapsed under tax fraud penalties, their joint property had been seized to satisfy the civil judgment I had won on behalf of Leo.
I walked into the house, my footsteps echoing against the bare hardwood floors. The expensive china cabinet was empty. The sofa where Mrs. Eleanor had sat watching me bleed was gone.
Standing in the kitchen, looking at the granite island, was my father.
He was wearing a casual flannel shirt and jeans, hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the floor tiles where I had once lain.
"Dad," I said softly, stepping into the room.
He turned around, his stern face softening as he saw me. "Hey, sweetheart. Where's Leo?"
"With the nanny in the car," I replied, walking over to stand beside him. "What are you doing here?"
My father looked around the empty room, his eyes dark with quiet reflection. "I bought the property at the bankruptcy auction this morning."
I blinked, surprised. "You bought this house? Why?"
My father pulled a heavy steel sledgehammer out from behind the counter, setting it upright on the granite island.
"Because," my father said, handing the hammer toward me, "some places carry bad memories that need to be torn down from the foundation."
I looked at the heavy hammer, then at the granite island where I had slammed my back, where my son’s life had almost ended before it began.
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I took the handle in both hands. I raised it high over my shoulder, felt the weight of my strength, my survival, and my father's love behind me—and brought it smashing down onto the center of the granite counter.
The marble cracked in two with a loud, satisfying roar, shattering into a thousand useless pieces across the empty floor.
