I also used a portion of what I’d earned from my rental property.

Nothing fancy, but it had a fenced yard, Ava’s favorite lavender bushes in front, and peace.

Real peace.

Meanwhile, my parents were frantically trying to find housing with Kayla, who, according to my cousin Sarah, who still kept in touch with them, was now too busy to help.

Poetic.

I didn’t feel vengeful.

I felt healed.

But the final confrontation was still to come, one that would happen face to face.

Exactly 30 days from the date on the eviction notice, I stood across the street from the house I once called home.

The property manager had confirmed they had to be out by noon, and I wanted to ensure they complied with the eviction order.

The front yard was cluttered with plastic bags, half-broken furniture, and my mother’s prized patio swing, now rusted at the base.

My father paced like a caged animal.

Kayla wasn’t there.

According to Sarah, she had flown to Miami to clear her head.

I crossed the street slowly, Ava holding my hand, her tiny fingers squeezing mine tighter the closer we got.

She had a backpack over her shoulder with her sketch pad sticking out.

I hadn’t planned for her to witness this, but she had asked to come.

“I want to see what it looks like when people get what they deserve,” she had said that morning, her young face serious beyond her years.

The moment they saw me, my mother rushed forward, dragging a suitcase behind her.

“Nicole, you can’t be serious,” she snapped, her face flushed with anger and humiliation. “We’re your family. You’re throwing us out like garbage.”

I looked at her without flinching, remembering the sting of her palm against my face, the sound of Ava’s frightened cry.

“I was garbage to you when I needed protection. When Ava needed protection, you hurt me like I was nothing. And now you want sympathy.”

My dad stomped toward us, his shadow falling across Ava, who pressed closer to my side.

“You think money gives you power?” he growled. “You’ve become arrogant. You’re just a tenant who bought herself a crown.”

“No,” I said. “I became the landlord of my own life and yours.”

He reached for my arm, but this time I didn’t freeze.

I didn’t cower.

“Touch me again,” I said sharply, “and the police will arrive faster than your next lie.”

He stopped.

Something in his eyes shifted.

Maybe for the first time, he realized he couldn’t scare me anymore.

Ava stepped slightly forward, her chin raised in a gesture so like my own that it made my heart swell with pride.