And in that moment, I made the final decision.
I was not going to let myself be intimidated. I was not going to allow them to turn me into their source of income. It was time they learned what it meant to face a woman who had survived seventy years in this world and who had nothing left to lose.
“I need to think about your proposal,” I told them finally, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. “It is a significant decision, and I do not want to take it lightly.”
Natalie smiled smugly as if my answer were exactly what she expected to hear.
“Of course, Mom, take your time—but not too much, huh? Because the business we want to start has a limited window of opportunity. If we wait too long, we will lose the moment.”
Adrien got up from the sofa and started walking around my living room as if he were the owner of the place. He stopped in front of the display cabinet where I keep the few valuable things I have: family photographs, some porcelain plates I inherited from my grandmother, a crystal figurine my husband gave me on our twentieth anniversary.
“And this,” he asked, pointing to the figurine, “how much is something like this worth?”
“It is not for sale,” I replied firmly. “Nothing in that cabinet is for sale.”
He laughed.
“Everything has a price, Eleanor. Everything. It is just a matter of finding the right number.”
Natalie got up and joined her husband in front of the cabinet. They started talking to each other in low voices—but loud enough for me to hear every word. It was intentional, of course. They wanted me to know exactly what they were thinking.
“When we sell this house, all this will have to go,” Natalie said, examining the objects as if they were trash. “Most are just old things without value. But maybe some pieces we can sell on the internet or at some antique shop.”
Adrien nodded. “And this space could be perfect for an office or a game room if we decide to stay and live here instead of selling. Although honestly, this house is in a very old neighborhood. It would probably be better to sell and move to something more modern.”
Every word was like a blow.
They were planning my future without me. They were deciding what to do with my house, with my things, with my life, as if I no longer existed—as if I were just a temporary obstacle on their path to what they considered rightfully theirs.
“And where exactly do you think I am going to live while you make all these plans?” I asked with a voice I barely recognized as mine.
It was cold, sharp, full of a contained rage I had been accumulating for years.
Natalie turned toward me with a surprised expression as if she had completely forgotten I was in the room.
“Oh, Mom, do not be dramatic. Obviously, this is for when you are no longer here. We are not talking about kicking you out on the street.”
“When I am no longer here,” I repeated. “You mean when I am dead? You are planning my funeral while I am still sitting here in front of you?”
Adrien rolled his eyes.
“Do not get so sensitive, Eleanor. We are all going to die someday. It is just common sense to plan ahead. You are already seventy years old. It is not like you have that much time left.”
His words took my breath away for a moment—not from shock, but from the absolute lack of humanity they demonstrated.
This man was standing in my living room, surrounded by everything I had built with my life, telling me to my face that he was waiting for me to die so he could take over everything.
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