Chapter Seventeen

The echo of the slammed front door lingered in the sweltering silence of Apartment 301, leaving the room heavy with the sour stench of decaying food and unwashed linoleum.

Andrea stood motionless near the broken hallway mirror, his face drained of every drop of color. His open dress shirt hung loosely off his shoulders, damp with cold sweat. For the first time, the blind arrogance in his eyes faltered, replaced by a hollow, vacant stare as he looked at the silk-wrapped bakery box Clara had left resting on the grimy cabinet.

Veronica was the first to snap the silence.

"That ungrateful witch!" Veronica shrieked, her voice cracking into a ragged, high-pitched scream. She slammed both fists onto the sticky dining table, sending a cloud of stale dust into the stagnant air. "How dare she! How dare she drag David and Clara into our private business! She paid them to say those things! She hired actors to come to our home and insult my son!"

Susan slowly pushed herself off the sofa, her bare feet sticking slightly to the floor tiles. She smoothed down her disheveled dress, though her hands were shaking as she looked at her brother. "Andrea... David said High Court injunction. He said the estate was registered under her family name before noon."

"He's lying!" Veronica spat, rounding on her daughter with eyes wild with manic denial. "David is in on it! Vanessa is using her father's old legal contacts to play mind games with us! Didn't you hear her on the phone, Andrea? She said she was at the market! She said she was making food for our arrival! She’s waiting for us right now at those main gates!"

Andrea’s hand twitched at his side, his fingers grasping at air where his phone usually sat. But the screen was dark, dead, and useless. He swallowed hard, his dry throat burning in the oppressive heat.

"Mummy is right," Andrea said, his voice quiet at first, then rapidly sharpening as his mind desperately clawed its way back into delusion. He straightened his spine, violently buttoning his damp shirt collar with trembling fingers. "David saw an opportunity to kick me while our power was down and he took it. Vanessa wouldn't dare sever ties completely. We are going straight up that hill to take our keys."

"Exactly!" Veronica declared, her chest heaving as she grabbed her faded handbag from the counter. "We will march up to her gates right now! Let her see us walk up with nothing! Let her realize that without the Tinnons family, that grand house is nothing but an empty tomb!"

They stormed out of the apartment unit, descending the dark, concrete stairwell of the complex. Six-year-old Leo stumbled behind them, clutching Susan’s skirt as he whimpered continuously in the blinding, humid heat.

The moment they pushed through the ground-floor security gates and stepped out onto the commercial junction leading toward the estate district, the scorching afternoon sun hit them like a physical blow. The air smelled of hot asphalt, exhaust fumes, and dry dust kicking up from the main road.

Andrea adjusted his cuffs out of pure reflex, trying to hold his chin high despite his sweat-soaked collar and dust-stained dress shoes. "Stay close," he muttered, pacing briskly. "When we get to the gate, let me do the talking—"

*Flash!*

A bright, high-intensity light burst directly into Andrea’s eyes, blinding him for a split second.

"Mr. Tinnons! Over here!" a sharp, eager voice shouted across the pavement.

Andrea winced, raising a hand to block the light, only to realize a young blogger in a baseball cap was holding a digital camera with a heavy zoom lens, flanked by an assistant holding a phone mounted on a ring light with a district news mic tag.

"Andrea Tinnons!" the blogger called out loudly, stepping directly into their path on the sidewalk and aiming the camera straight at Andrea's sweat-streaked face. "We received reports from the plaza that Miss Vanessa Axerold filed an absolute separation injunction at the High Court! We're here covering the estate developments—can you confirm the rumors?!"

Veronica let out an outraged gasp, lunging forward with her handbag raised like a weapon. "Get that camera out of my son's face! Who gave you permission to record us?!"

"Madam, please!" the blogger retorted, effortlessly stepping backward while keeping the camera focused on Veronica's disheveled hair and smeared makeup. "The High Court registry bulletin went public less than an hour ago, and Mrs. Gable's reports from the market are already circulating through the district! We came straight here to verify if the rumors are true!"

Andrea’s stomach dropped into a cold, bottomless pit. His heart hammered against his ribs as he noticed several shopkeepers, motorcycle drivers, and passing commuters slowing down to watch the scene unfold.

"Get out of our way," Andrea growled, trying to shove past the blogger with forced authority, but his voice lacked any real weight. "This is private family business. I am a respected man in this town—"

"A respected man walking on foot in forty-degree heat?" the blogger cut in, pointing the lens down at Andrea’s dusty shoes and the heavy sweat patches soaking through his armpits. "Mr. Tinnons, rumors say your primary corporate accounts were frozen at nine o'clock and you've been locked out of the estate. Is that why you're marching on foot right now? Are you on your way to confront Miss Axerold at the gates?"

"He is not confronting anyone!" Susan screamed from behind, covering young Leo’s face with her arms as the camera flashed again, capturing the terrified, crying child in full high-definition. "Stop recording my child!"

"Look at them!" a bystander by the kiosk shouted, laughing loudly while holding up his phone. "The high-society husband is sweating on the hot bitumen! The wife dumped him and locked the gates!"

"Take a picture of the mother!" another voice jeered from the crowd. "She used to strut around the district like a queen!"

"Andrea, turn back!" Susan panicked, yanking violently on his arm as she pulled little Leo against her hip. "They are recording us! We can't walk up to the hill like this! Look at the street!"

"We are not turning back!" Veronica screeched, her eyes wide with frantic, manic pride. "We have to go to the gates! Andrea, tell them!"

"Mummy, shut up!" Susan snapped, her voice breaking into a harsh sob as another camera flashed in her eyes. "Look at my son! Look at us! They are recording everything! Turn around!"

Andrea looked at the ring light, then at the jeering crowd, and finally down at his own trembling, sweat-soaked hands. The illusion was dead. The dignified walk to the estate gates had turned into a public ambush.

"Inside," Andrea choked out, his voice barely a rasp.

"Andrea, no!" Veronica gasped.

"I said get back inside!" Andrea roared, his composure snapping completely as he turned on his heel and bolted back toward the entrance of the building.

"Mr. Tinnons, wait!" the blogger yelled, chasing them right up to the threshold, the ring light illuminating their retreat in stark detail. "Is it true you're moving back into Apartment 301 permanently?! Are you officially broke, Mr. Tinnons?! Give us a comment on Miss Axerold's injunction!"

"Leave us alone!" Veronica shrieked, swinging her handbag wildly behind her as she pushed past Andrea.

"Look at the executive running away!" a voice from the street roared with laughter. "Go back to your hot room!"

They scrambled through the entrance, practically tumbling into the dimly lit, suffocating concrete hallway. The heavy iron door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the blinding flashes and shouting, but locking them inside the stifling, heavy heat of the corridor.

Susan dropped Leo onto his feet, her chest heaving as tears wiped clean tracks through the dust on her cheeks. "You promised me we were going to the house!" she screamed at Andrea. "You said Vanessa would bring the keys! Instead we just got dragged on the street like dogs on live camera!"

"Watch your tongue, Susan!" Veronica yelled, leaning heavily against the damp wall as she panted for air, her hair hanging in greasy strings over her face. "Your brother is doing everything he can! This is all that witch's fault!"

"It's his fault!" Susan yelled back, pointing a shaking finger directly at Andrea's chest. "His accounts are dead! Our phones are dead! We can't even buy anything, and now the whole district has us on video running back into this dump!"

Andrea didn't say a word. He stood at the end of the dark corridor, staring at the door of the apartment waiting down the hall. The realization hit him like a physical blow—they were trapped. They couldn't step outside without being recorded and mocked, and they couldn't stay inside without suffocating in the heat.

"Get back in the apartment," Andrea whispered, his fingers curling into tight, helpless fists at his sides. "Everyone... get back inside."