They Demanded a 60-Course Birthday Feast to Prove They Owned Me — So I Delivered Exactly 60 Dishes, and an Eviction Notice
Flanking me in the mirrored elevator were two off-duty police officers, hired for the day as security; a sharp-eyed investigative journalist from a local news outlet, who had been following stories on financial and coercive abuse and had found mine very much to her interest; and Darcy herself, in a suit sharper than mine, gripping a thick leather folder that held every document we had filed that morning.
And behind us, wheeled onto a hand truck by two hired movers, rode the two enormous, heavily duct-taped cardboard boxes.
The elevator rose.
I watched the floor numbers climb, and I felt the cold clear thing in my chest settle into something almost like serenity.
It was, at last, time to serve the birthday banquet.
Chapter 10 — The Penthouse