“Wesley resides here,” Serena said, her voice dropping into a register that made Beverly finally stop talking. “Living in a house and owning it are two very different things, and you have overstayed your welcome in both.”
Beverly turned to the officers, her voice rising into a shrill, theatrical tone that she usually reserved for getting her way at expensive boutiques. “She is delusional and clearly suffering from a mental break because of a small kitchen accident yesterday!”
Serena didn’t let the insult linger in the air for even a second. “I paid the down payment with my first major commission, and I pay every cent of the mortgage, the taxes, and the insurance you love to brag about.”
The sound of a car speeding up the gravel driveway interrupted the confrontation as Wesley’s black sedan screeched to a halt behind the police cruisers. He climbed out of the car with his tie loosened and his expression frantic, looking like a man who had tried to outrun a storm that had already arrived.