Apex wasn’t a traditional real estate agency that hosted open houses and baked cookies for prospective buyers. They were a massive, ruthless corporate investment group known for lightning-fast, all-cash buyouts of premium properties. More importantly, they were infamous in the real estate world for their aggressive property management division, which had absolutely zero tolerance for squatters, holdovers, or unauthorized occupants.
The regional director, a sharp-eyed man named Mr. Sterling, reviewed the thick file I had slid across his desk.
“It’s a beautiful property, Ms. Vance,” Sterling said, tapping his expensive pen against the desk. “Prime location, excellent square footage. However, you mentioned there is a complication regarding the current occupants?”
“My brother is currently residing in the house,” I explained, my voice devoid of any emotion. “He has been living there rent-free for three years. There is no written lease. He pays no utilities. He pays no rent. Legally, he is merely a guest who has overstayed his welcome. He has absolutely no tenant rights in this state.”
Sterling nodded slowly, a predatory smile touching the corners of his mouth. “Ah. A hostile holdover. We deal with these frequently. Usually, this requires an eviction process, which takes time. Because we would be assuming the burden of removing the unauthorized occupant, we cannot offer you the full market value of $770,000. We will offer $700,000 in cash, wired directly to your accounts, ‘as-is’.”
“I accept,” I said without a second of hesitation. Seventy thousand dollars was a small price to pay for the absolute devastation I was about to unleash.
“Excellent,” Sterling said, pushing the heavy purchase agreement toward me. “Now, regarding the closing and handover date. When would you like us to take legal and physical possession of the property?”
I looked at the calendar on his desk. “Saturday, the 14th.”
That was the exact date embossed on the heavy gold wedding invitations.
“At exactly 4:00 PM,” I added, my eyes locking onto his. “They will be hosting a large event in the backyard garden. The house itself will be relatively empty. Your security team can enter through the front doors, take immediate possession, and change the locks while they are occupied outside.”
Sterling raised an eyebrow, clearly grasping the implication of the timing. He didn’t judge; corporate entities don’t have morals, only protocols.
“A flawless tactical handover,” Sterling smiled, signing his portion of the document. “Our security team will take full possession of the property right on time, Ms. Vance. Once the wire transfer clears on Friday the 13th, the house is ours, and anyone inside without our permission is trespassing.”
I signed my name on the dotted line, officially liquidating my greatest asset and my brother’s entire fake reality in one stroke of a pen.
During those agonizing three weeks, my phone remained dead silent regarding the wedding. The family group chat, however, which they had foolishly forgotten to remove me from, was a constant, buzzing reminder of their betrayal. It was flooded daily with photos of Nicole’s dress fittings, multi-tiered cake tastings, and massive arrangements of fresh white roses being delivered to the foyer of my house.
My parents didn’t call me once. They didn’t text to check on me. They were far too busy running errands for Dalton, completely consumed by the preparations for the “only child’s” grand performance. They were actively celebrating my disappearance from their lives.
