“What did you say?” Natalie asked, her voice dangerously low.
I stood up and walked to the cabinet by the window. I took out the black binder, now thick with all the documents I had compiled over the last weeks.
I held it in my hands, feeling its weight, feeling the power it represented.
“You are not going to receive a dime of my pension,” I repeated with a firm voice. “And not only that, you are going to stop entering my house whenever you want. You are going to give me back the key you have, and you are going to start treating me with the respect I deserve.”
Adrien jumped to his feet.
“You cannot talk to us like that. You cannot kick us out. We are your family.”
I walked back to my spot and placed the black binder on the coffee table right in front of them. I pushed it gently toward Natalie.
“Open it,” I told her. “I think this answers everything you came to ask me for today.”
Natalie looked at the black binder as if it were a poisonous snake. Her hands trembled slightly when she took it, and I could see her swallow before opening it.
Adrien approached immediately, leaning over her shoulder to see the contents.
The first page was a formal letter from my lawyer, Katherine Reynolds, addressed to both of them. It was written in flawless legal language, but the message was clear.
It ceased immediately all permissions they had regarding my property, my finances, and my personal decisions.
Natalie turned to the second page. It was a notarized document revoking any power of attorney she might have had over my bank accounts.
Her eyes moved rapidly over the words, and I watched her face lose color with every line she read.
“This has no validity,” she said with a trembling voice. “You cannot do this without consulting us.”
“Oh, but I can,” I replied calmly. “And it is already done. Everything was reviewed by lawyers, notarized, and legally registered. Every document in that binder is completely valid.”
Adrien snatched the binder from Natalie’s hands and began flipping through the pages with abrupt, desperate movements.
His face turned red when he reached the third section: a detailed record of all the loans they had asked me for over the last five years. Every amount, every date, every unfulfilled promise of repayment.
There were seventeen documented loans. From the five hundred Natalie asked me for a supposed medical emergency that never existed, to the three thousand Adrien urgently needed for a business that never materialized.
In total, they added up to more than twenty-three thousand they had never paid back.
“This is private,” Adrien shouted, his voice choked. “You have no right to document this like this.”
“I have every right,” I responded, “especially when you came to demand more money without having returned a cent of what I already lent you.”
Natalie kept turning pages, her breathing increasingly agitated. She reached the section of medical evaluations: three certificates from different doctors, all with recent dates, all confirming my complete mental capacity and absolute lucidity.
“You went to three different doctors?” she asked incredulously. “All this for what? To prove you are sane?”
“To ensure that when you tried to declare me incompetent, as you threatened to do, you would have no legal basis to do so,” I explained. “Each of those doctors is willing to testify in court if necessary.”
Adrien dropped the binder on the table as if it burned his hands.
There were more pages behind: copies of text messages where they spoke about me in a derogatory way, recordings of conversations—all obtained legally, as Katherine had assured me—written and signed testimonies from my neighbors regarding the abusive behavior they had witnessed.
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