The address. The property boundaries. And the names of the former owners.
I read those names twice to ensure there was no mistake.
Of all the properties across the city, fate had brought their file to my desk.
I folded the paperwork, put on my coat, and drove over to the location. I understood something clearly that day: some chapters require a definitive conclusion.
I drove calmly, knowing I was fully prepared for whatever lay ahead.
When I pulled up, I noticed a moving truck parked in the driveway. Workers were carrying labeled boxes while a pile of household items accumulated on the front lawn.
And then I saw them.
Brenda was standing near the porch steps in casual clothes, arguing with one of the movers in a tense, stressed tone—the tone of someone realizing they have lost control of their circumstances.
Victor stood beside her, looking weary and defeated, his posture lacking the confidence he once possessed.
