Chapter 5 - The Apartment Was Never His
Victor left Hartwell Tower without speaking to reporters.
There were no reporters yet.
That was intentional.
My father did not want spectacle.
He wanted documentation.
Victor preferred spectacle because spectacle could be manipulated.
Documents were harder to charm.
At eleven seventeen, he returned to the penthouse.
Kendra was packing.
Two suitcases stood beside the bed.
“What are you doing?”
She did not turn around.
“Going home.”
“You live here.”
“No.”
She zipped a suitcase.
“You told me you owned this place.”
“I do.”
Kendra finally looked at him.
“Then why did a property attorney call me ten minutes ago?”
Victor went still.
“What attorney?”
“He said the apartment belongs to some Hartwell residential holding company.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
Kendra laughed bitterly.
“You don’t own it.”
“I pay for it.”
“You pay association fees.”
Victor grabbed the closing documents from a cabinet.
He had barely read them when we moved in.
The purchase had been structured through an executive housing arrangement.
He had told everyone he bought the penthouse.
I had never corrected him.
Now he read the ownership section.
Hartwell Residential Assets III.
His face tightened.
Kendra watched him.
“What else did you lie about?”
He looked at her.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“You knew I was married.”
“You told me you were rich.”
“I am rich.”
“Your card declined this morning.”
“That’s temporary.”
“Your accounts are frozen.”
“Temporary.”
“You lost your job.”
“Temporary.”
Kendra stared at him for several seconds.
Then she laughed.
Victor’s expression became dangerous.
“What is funny?”
“You.”
She picked up her suitcase.
“You spent two years acting like you owned Chicago.”
“I will fix this.”
“With what?”
Victor stepped toward her.
“Kendra.”
She moved backward.
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Don’t touch me.”
Those words stopped him.
Perhaps because he remembered hearing them from me.
Perhaps because, for the first time, someone he considered valuable was treating him exactly as he had treated me.
The intercom rang.
Victor answered.
A calm voice came through.
“Mr. Hayes, this is building management.”
“What?”
“We have received notice terminating your occupancy rights.”
Victor gripped the receiver.
“You can’t do that.”
“The unit owner has exercised the relevant clause.”
“Who is the unit owner?”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Olivia Hartwell.”
Victor slowly turned toward the windows.
Chicago stretched beneath him.
For years, he had stood there believing the view proved what he had accomplished.
Now the truth surrounded him.
The apartment.
The career.
The access.
The opportunities.
May you like
Even the floor beneath his shoes.
None of it had ever belonged to him.
