Arthur’s assistant, a young man named David who was a certified process server, was in the passenger seat.

It was a beautiful, clear day. The neighborhood was quiet. As we pulled up, I saw Chloe’s car in the driveway.

We walked up the steps. I could see through the living room window. Chloe, Mark, and Evelyn were sitting on the sofa, drinking coffee.

I rang the doorbell.

Chloe came to the door. When she saw me through the glass, her face went pale as a sheet. She opened the door just a crack, keeping the chain on.

“Ellen, I told you,” she hissed. “I will call the police. Get off our porch.”

David stepped forward, sliding a thick blue envelope through the crack before she could slam it.

“Chloe Miller?” David asked. “You’ve been served. This is a petition for the partition and sale of this property.”

Chloe stared at the envelope. “What is this?” she stammered, her voice losing all its calm confidence.

Mark must have heard the commotion because he came to the door, looking confused. “Mom? What’s going on?”

“Your wife blocked my number, Mark,” I said quietly. “So I had to find another way to talk to you.”

“What is this, Mark?” Chloe screamed, ripping the envelope open. She pulled out the legal documents. “She’s trying to take our house!”

Mark’s eyes went wide as he read the cover page. “Mom, you can’t do this. Where are we supposed to go?”

“You have sixty days to buy out my sixty percent share of the equity, plus the forty-five thousand dollar principal,” I told him, looking him straight in the eyes. “Otherwise, the house goes on the market. The court has already approved the petition.”

Evelyn came running out of the living room, her face red with anger. “You can’t do this to your own grandchildren! You’re a monster, Ellen!”

“I haven’t seen my grandchildren in two years, Evelyn,” I said, my voice dead quiet. “You’ve been baking with them in my mother’s bowl. You can buy the house for them if you love them so much.”

Chloe turned to Mark, her face twisting. “Do something! Tell her she can’t do this!”

But Mark just stood there, staring at the paperwork. He looked like he had just been hit by a truck. “Chloe… did you block my mom’s number?”

“That doesn’t matter right now!” Chloe yelled.

“Yes, it does,” Mark said, his voice suddenly sounding very small. He looked up at me, and for the first time in two years, I saw my son. Not the man Chloe had built out of silence, but my boy.

We walked back to my car. I didn’t look back.

They couldn’t buy me out, of course. Chloe’s parents tried to get a loan, but their debt-to-income ratio was too high. The bank said no.

Two weeks later, Mark showed up at my house. He was alone.

He sat at my kitchen table, the same table where he had begged me for the down payment five years ago.