Chapter 8 - The Mansion After Them
I visited River Oaks once after Brandon moved out.
Sterling’s property manager invited me to verify Redwood furnishings had been removed.
The mansion echoed.
No Amber on sofa.
No birthday guests.
No blood.
The coffee table had a small scratch where my hip struck.
I stared.
The manager asked:
“Want us to note damage?”
“No.”
Ordinary wear.
Then the room.
Brandon had removed personal art.
Wine.
Electronics.
Fine.
Redwood movers took only inventory.
No stealing.
Then I walked into study.
The shelves empty except one brown scrap of wrapping paper under cabinet.
From watch?
Maybe.
I picked up.
Threw away.
No shrine.
Then Sterling’s director said:
“We’re likely keeping house, renovating kitchen.”
“Good.”
“Do you want purchase it back if plans change?”
“No.”
Done.
A property can stop being family symbol if allowed.
Then proceeds.
Redwood received roughly $6.2 million less closing costs and settlement with Brandon for improvements.
We reinvested.
Not distributed to myself for yacht.
A municipal infrastructure debt fund and one industrial property.
Boring.
That felt good.
Then Amber called.
“Did you go back?”
“Yes.”
“How did it feel?”
“Like a building.”
She laughed sadly.
“I hated that house.”
I was surprised.
“You seemed to love it.”
“I loved what people thought.”
There.
Then:
“Brandon did too.”
Probably.
She said:
“We were both pretending.”
Then apology.
“Franklin, I am sorry I smiled.”
I stayed silent.
“I’m sorry I told you to get out.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry I watched your son hit you and made it worse.”
I answered:
“Thank you for saying it.”
“Do you forgive me?”
“No.”
She inhaled.
“Okay.”
Good.
No demand.
Then her life.
She moved to smaller apartment.
Returned to marketing job she had before marriage? She had been involved in luxury event consulting. Let's say she resumed brand consulting.
No ruined woman.
She was responsible for cruelty, not criminally attacked anyone.
Then Brandon’s psychological evaluation.
No major mental illness.
No cognitive impairment.
Pattern of entitlement, poor anger regulation, status sensitivity.
Again, no “unstable psycho.”
He was responsible.
Then judge sentenced.
Because no prior criminal record, admitted guilt, non-life-threatening injuries, repeated blows, age difference, and family relationship, the court imposed ten months confinement followed by two years supervised community release, mandatory violence intervention, restitution for medical expenses, and no-contact unless modified later.
Could be plausible in fictional jurisdiction.
No decades.
No slap on wrist.
Ten months.
Brandon looked stunned.
His lawyer had hoped probation only.
The judge said:
“Thirty strikes is not one impulsive contact.”
Then:
“Your father’s choice not to retaliate does not reduce your conduct.”
I felt something release.
Then I spoke only when judge asked if I understood no contact.
“Yes.”
Brandon turned before custody.
“Dad.”
Deputy paused only moment.
I looked.
He whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
First simple apology.
No house.
No Amber.
No inheritance.
I nodded.
Then he left.
I walked outside.
Marcus stood beside.
“You okay?”
“No.”
Same answer.
Then:
“Do you regret sale?”
“No.”
“Plea?”
“No.”
“Anything?”
I looked toward courthouse.
“I regret buying the house in the first place.”
Marcus shook head.
“That is too easy.”
“What?”
“You are turning five years of parenting choices into one real estate decision.”
He was right.
Damn attorneys.
Then:
“What do you regret?”
I thought.
“I regret teaching him that every consequence had a checkbook solution.”
Better.
Then Reeves Urban board appointed interim CEO while Brandon served custody.
CFO Melissa.
Projects continued.
Employees did not lose jobs because founder’s son was jailed.
Company was real enough to survive.
That mattered.
Then private lender Calder & Boone.
After review, they concluded net worth statement materially overstated but loan remained performing.
They reduced credit line, froze future advances, required revised collateral and accelerated a portion? Better they renegotiated.
Brandon’s financial advisor sold investments to reduce balance.
No bankruptcy.
Again consequence.
Then I looked at antique watch.
Still on dresser.
For first time I wound it.
It ticked.
Quiet.
Still working after being thrown.
I almost laughed.
Objects are not people.
But sometimes they carry questions.
May you like
Would I ever give it to Brandon again?
Not yet.
