Chapter 18 - The Gates of Broken Dreams
The rain had stopped by the following afternoon,
leaving the city streets glistening under a pale autumn sun.
On the outskirts of the prestigious residential district,
the grand estate mansion stood behind its tall wrought-iron gates.
Construction crews were busy working on the property,
removing the old gold-plated family crests from the stone pillars.
A massive wooden banner was being erected across the front entrance:
THE CARTER FOUNDATION FOR WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
A lone,
shabby figure stood on the damp sidewalk outside the iron bars,
clutching a dirty plastic bag filled with plastic bottles.
It was Evelyn Vance.
Her hair was wild,
uncombed,
and streaked with gray.
She wore a heavy,
stained coat given to her by the shelter,
her shoes torn at the toes.
She stared through the iron bars at the grand mansion where she had once lived like a queen.
"Stop!"
Evelyn screamed at the construction workers,
her voice high,
cracked,
and completely hysterical.
"Stop touching my house!"
"That is my mansion!"
"My son Daniel bought this for me!"
"I am the lady of this estate!"
The construction workers ignored her completely,
continuing to haul away old velvet furniture and heavy gold frames into large disposal trucks.
"Do you hear me?"
Evelyn shrieked,
banging her dirty fists against the cold iron gates.
"I have ten thousand dollars a month!"
"I buy designer bags!"
"I go to high-society galas!"
"Call my son!"
"Call Daniel right now!"
A sleek,
unmarked black sedan pulled up smoothly to the curb beside her.
The rear window rolled down slowly.
Inside sat Emily Carter,
dressed in a pristine black cashmere coat,
her dark hair falling gracefully over her shoulders.
Evelyn froze,
her wide,
bloodshot eyes fixing onto Emily’s face.
A surge of intense,
poisonous rage surged through Evelyn's veins.
"You!"
Evelyn screamed,
lunging toward the car window,
her dirty nails clawing at the door handle.
"You evil,
vicious girl!"
"You stole my life!"
"You put my innocent boy in prison!"
"You took my mansion!"
"Give me back my money!"
"Give me back my life!"
The two security guards standing at the estate gate instantly rushed over,
grabbing Evelyn by her arms and pulling her back from the vehicle.
Emily did not roll up her window.
She did not flinch.
She looked down at the screaming,
disheveled woman with an expression of deep,
absolute pity.
"Evelyn,"
Emily said softly,
her voice quiet enough that only Evelyn could hear it over her own screams.
"Look at yourself."
"You spent three years trying to convince the world that I was nothing."
"You told everyone that I lived off your son's charity."
"And now,"
"you stand outside my gates,"
"begging for the very air I breathe."
"I'm not begging!"
Evelyn spat,
tears of pure madness running down her dirty face.
"This is my son's house!"
"He is the provider!"
"Your son is serving fifteen years in a concrete cell,
Evelyn,"
Emily said flatly,
her voice devoid of any warmth.
"And this house is being turned into a sanctuary for women whose lives were broken by arrogant men like him."
"Your name will be erased from every stone."
"Your memory will be forgotten."
Emily signaled to the driver.
The rear window rolled up smoothly,
sealing out Evelyn’s desperate,
insane shrieks.
As the luxury sedan pulled away smoothly down the tree-lined avenue,
a medical transport van pulled up to the curb.
Two psychiatric social workers stepped out,
holding an official court-ordered evaluation warrant.
Evelyn was gently,
firmly escorted into the rear of the van,
May you like
still screaming about her ten-thousand-dollar allowance to the empty street,
as the doors closed behind her forever.
