CHAPTER 5: ROCK BOTTOM
The morning sun offered no warmth, only a harsh illumination of the disaster. As Callie expected, the corporate client was furious when she called to explain the "break-in" and the ruined order. They canceled the contract immediately, refusing to pay a single dime of the remaining balance and threatening to leave a devastating review online.
To make matters worse, at 9:00 AM, a heavy knock sounded on the door. It wasn't Joel. It was Mr. Henderson, the apartment building’s strict property manager.
He looked at the cardboard taped over the shattered kitchen window, his expression hardening. "I’ve received complaints about noise and disturbances coming from this unit, Miss Vance. And now property damage? I spoke with your Uncle Joel yesterday—he called to express serious concerns about your ability to maintain this lease, especially with your grandmother's... condition."
"My uncle is lying to you, Mr. Henderson," Callie pleaded, her voice cracking. "Someone broke in and did this to intimidate me!"
"I don't care about family drama," Henderson said coldly, handing her a crisp white envelope. "What I care about is the peace and safety of this building. This is a formal thirty-day notice to vacate. You need to find another place to live."
Callie closed the door slowly, the envelope heavy in her hand. She had no money, no business left, no home in thirty days, and a grandmother who required around-the-clock medical care. She looked around the small apartment that had been her sanctuary, feeling a profound sense of defeat. Joel had won. He had stripped her of everything.
"Callie?" Geneva’s voice was quiet. She was sitting at the table, watching her granddaughter with an unusual intensity. The foggy, distant look in her eyes was temporarily gone, replaced by a deep, lucid sorrow. "You're crying because of me, aren't you?"
Callie wiped her face quickly, putting on a brave smile. "No, Grandma, of course not. Just stressed about work."
Geneva reached across the table, her frail fingers surprisingly firm as she took Callie’s hand. "Don't lie to an old woman, sweetheart. I remember... I remember the dark room. Joel and Dakota... they brought papers. They told me Arthur was waiting for me in a new house. They made me hold the pen. When I cried, they locked me in the guest room for two days until I signed."
A gasp escaped Callie’s lips. "They forced you?"
"They took everything," Geneva whispered, a tear escaping her cloudy eyes. "But they didn't get the vault. I hid the key in the Blessed Mother before they packed my things. Inside that box, Callie... it's not just money. It's the real deed. It’s the truth about what Joel did to your grandfather’s business. Don't let them have it. You have to leave this city. Go to the valley. Go where they can't find you until you're ready to fight."
Geneva’s eyes drifted again, the brief window of absolute clarity slamming shut as she began to murmur about the weather, but the message had been delivered.
May you like
Callie knew she couldn't stay in Fairview. Joel controlled this town; he had the police in his pocket and thugs at his disposal. If she stayed, she would lose the key, or worse, Geneva would be taken from her.
With less than two hundred dollars left in her bank account, Callie packed the vintage leather suitcase, grabbed her baking supplies, and helped Geneva into her modest, beat-up sedan. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to disappear. She turned the key in the ignition and drove away from Fairview, leaving the ruined remains of her life behind, heading west toward the rugged, unfamiliar mountains of Oregon.
