PART 8 — Sabine's Fury
The silence that fell when Sabine stormed into the living room was oppressive. Her eyes darted from the collapsed Jons on the floor to me, and then to Noah's small gift still lying under the table. Her face, normally set in a mask of superiority, twisted into a grimace of pure hysteria.
"What... what on earth is going on here?" she blurted out, her voice an octave higher than normal. She turned furiously to Jons. "Are you crying here?! We don't have time for tears! The notary is waiting until twelve! If we don't sign those papers today, we lose everything! Everything!"
Jons didn't even look up at her. He stared dully at his shoes and whispered, "It's over, Sabine... He knows. He knows about the power of attorney and mother's foundation..."
Sabine froze. The color drained entirely from her face, as if she were watching a monster in a horror movie. Slowly, she turned her head toward me. Her gaze, which had been so ice-cold and disdainful last night when she slammed the door in my face, now flared with pure hatred.
"You..." she hissed, taking a step forward and digging her nails into her palms. "You old selfish dreamer! You betrayed us! After everything we've done for you! After all these years we kept you company, letting you share in our life!"
I couldn't suppress a bitter laugh. "Company? Letting me share? Sabine, let's be honest about the 'care' you gave me. For two full years, I babysat Noah four days a week, mowed your lawn, repaired the roof, did the groceries, and folded laundry while you went on vacation or stayed out until the middle of the night. And when I said 'no' one single time last Tuesday because I had to see the gastroenterologist for an examination, you put me on the street in the freezing cold on New Year's Eve. As if I were trash."
"That was your fault!" Sabine screamed, waving her arms in the air. "You could have rescheduled that hospital visit! You begrudge us our happiness! You're jealous of our success!"
"Success?" I responded sharply, taking a step forward for the first time, my voice echoing threateningly through the small room. "Do you call tens of thousands of euros in debt to predatory banks and an illegally acquired property 'success'? You're living a lie, Sabine. And that lie has finally collapsed today."
Sabine threw her handbags to the floor, her anger boiling over. "Do you really think you're going to get away with this, Thomas?! Does your lawyer think he can just take our stuff? We have the deed! We have the signature!"
"A signature forged with a digital copy on a fake care contract," a voice sounded behind her in the doorway.
We all turned around. Mr. Houtman stood in the open doorway, briefcase in hand and an officially stamped court document in the other. Behind him stood Mrs. De Vries, the neighbor across the street, holding her smartphone showing and playing the video evidence from last night clearly.
Sabine's face darkened. The ground seemed to permanently vanish beneath her feet.
