Chapter 3 - The Eviction
By 9:00 PM, the party had entirely dissolved.
The wealthy guests, local acquaintances, and social media followers had fled the lodge in a wave of awkward, hurried exits. The snow outside continued to fall heavily, blanketing the wraparound deck and piling against the tall glass windows facing the valley.
Only three people remained in the grand living room: me, my mother, and Olivia.
Olivia sat on the edge of the plush leather sofa—the sofa I had paid three thousand dollars to have delivered and installed—staring blankly into the dying embers of my fireplace. Her hair was disheveled, her champagne glass sitting empty on the mahogany coffee table beside a stain of spilled wine.
My mother stood near the kitchen island, nervously wiping a wine glass with a paper towel.
“Tiffany,” my mother began, her voice soft and pleading. “It’s nearly ten o’clock, and the storm is getting worse. Roads are closed down the canyon. You can’t possibly expect Olivia to drive back to Denver tonight.”
I stood near the front entryway, my winter coat still on, my arms crossed over my chest.
“There is a commercial motel two miles down the main road,” I replied calmly. “It’s clean, it’s warm, and it costs eighty-five dollars a night.”
Olivia snapped her head up, her eyes red-rimmed and fierce with hatred. “You’re kicking your own sister out into a blizzard on Christmas Eve? Over a house?!”
“No, Olivia,” I said. “I’m removing a trespasser who broke into my private office, defamed my character in front of thirty people, and ruined my property.”
“You are a heartless, selfish monster!” Olivia spat, standing up and grabbing her designer handbag from the counter. “You’ve always hated me! You were jealous of me because Mom loved me more! You bought this place just to rub it in my face!”
I looked at her, and for the first time in my life, I felt absolutely no anger toward her. Only pity.
“I bought this lodge because I loved the mountains, Olivia,” I said quietly. “I bought it because I worked fourteen-hour days for twelve years while you laughed at my uniform. I didn't think about you once when I signed the deed. You simply aren't the center of my world anymore.”
The truth of those words hit her harder than any insult could have. She realized, in that moment, that she no longer held any power over me. The sister she had used as a punchline for a decade was standing in a two-million-dollar estate, completely unbothered by her presence.
My mother looked between us, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. “Tiffany... please. If she leaves, I’m going with her.”
I looked my mother in the eye.
“That is your choice, Mom,” I said softly. “The guest room downstairs is prepared for you if you want to stay. But Olivia leaves tonight. No exceptions.”
My mother hesitated. She looked at the warm, glowing fireplace, the plush furniture, the grand Christmas tree, and then at her disheveled, furious elder daughter.
For the first time in her life, my mother did not automatically choose Olivia.
“Olivia,” my mother whispered, her voice trembling. “Maybe... maybe we should go to the motel.”
Olivia let out a high-pitched, hysterical laugh. “Unbelievable! Both of you! You’re both against me!”
She grabbed her fur coat from the rack, shoved her feet into her designer boots, and marched to the front door. She turned once, her hand on the brass handle I had hand-polished three weeks ago.
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“Enjoy your empty house, Tiffany,” Olivia sneered, her voice cracking with pure, bitter venom. “You can have your stupid lodge. But you’ll always be nothing more than a maid in expensive clothes.”
She slammed the door shut, the heavy oak vibrating through the frame.
