PART 6 — The confrontation in the hallway
Sarah appeared behind Mark in the doorway, her arms crossed and with a look of open disdain on her face. She looked at me as if I were a beggar coming to defile her territory.
“What are you doing here, Anna?” Sarah asked sharply, without any politeness. “Didn't Mark take you to that home? Everything is arranged. The papers are signed. You have nothing more to look for here.”
I didn't even look at her; my eyes remained fixed straight on my son. Mark was sweating by now, despite the cool evening air streaming in through the open door. He felt in everything that something was wrong. My posture was not that of the broken, written-off mother he had chased away that morning.
“The papers are indeed signed, Sarah,” I said in a calm, almost chilling voice. “But you apparently forgot to read the fine print. Or rather: you thought you could take everything without listening to the real owner.”
Mark took a step forward, his voice sounding strained and high. “Mom, act normal. What are you talking about? This is our house now. You live in the care home. Go back to your room before I call the police for trespassing.”
I smiled faintly. It was a grim smile that seemed to make him find me even more terrifying than shouting. “Call the police, Mark? To throw your own mother out of a house where legally you have no ownership whatsoever as long as the foundation and notary Van Houten veto it?”
Mark froze. The notary's name dropped like a stone in the water and killed all his arguments in one blow. “What... what do you know about the notary?” he stammered, while the color definitively vanished from his face and his glass of wine almost slipped from his fingers.
