Chapter 4 - The Confrontation on Elm Street
The rain had begun to fall in earnest, a cold autumn drizzle that slicked the cracked asphalt of Elm Street and made the rust on the fire escapes glisten like dried blood.
Standing near the rusted iron railing of the front stoop was my mother.
She looked smaller than ever, wrapped in a worn, faded denim jacket that was far too thin for the chilly rain. Her golden-brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, plastering against her pale neck as the rain hit her. She was pleading with the man in the brown suit, her hands clasped together, tears mixing with the rainwater on her cheeks.
"Please, Mr. Henderson!" my mother begged, her voice carrying across the street, raw and desperate. "The notice said we had until Friday! It's only Tuesday! I have three hundred dollars from my night shift... I can give it to you right now if you just give me until the weekend!"
"The notice was a formality, Clara!" Henderson sneered, clicking his pen against his clipboard. He was a short, round man with a greasy mustache and yellowed teeth. "Management moved up the execution date. The entire building is scheduled for demolition by Graves Energy next month. Every tenant has to be out by sunset today. Orders come from the top!"
"My daughter is at school!" my mother sobbed, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "She doesn't even know! Where am I supposed to take her when she gets off the bus?!"
"Not my problem, lady," Henderson scoffed, shoving her hand away so hard she stumbled backward against the brick wall. "Take it up with Graves Energy. Now get your boxes off the sidewalk before I call the city marshals to haul them away as trash."
Inside the black SUV, Nathaniel Graves watched the landlord shove my mother.
A sound escaped his throat—a low, terrifying roar of pure, unadulterated fury that made even Marcus in the front seat stiffen.
"Marcus," Nathaniel commanded, his voice shaking with power. "Block the street."
"Yes, sir," Marcus answered instantly.
The massive black SUV luroped forward, swerving across the double yellow lines and slamming to a halt horizontally across Elm Street, completely blocking both lanes of traffic. The tires screeched against the wet pavement.
Before the landlord or the moving men could process what was happening, two more black security vehicles that had been following us pulled up behind the SUV, their doors flying open simultaneously. Six burly, suited security officers stepped out into the rain, positioning themselves around the moving truck.
Henderson the landlord stumbled back in shock, dropping his clipboard onto the wet sidewalk. "What the hell is this?! Who do you think you are blocking the street—"
The heavy rear door of the main SUV opened.
Nathaniel Graves stepped out into the rain. Marcus immediately held a massive black umbrella over his head, but Nathaniel pushed it aside, ignoring the water pouring down onto his silver hair and expensive suit.
He walked straight toward the front stoop, his leather shoes splashing through the puddles.
I stepped out behind him, running around the side of the SUV. "Mom!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Mom!"
My mother turned at the sound of my voice. Her eyes went wide with terror when she saw me stepping out of the luxurious black vehicle surrounded by armed security men.
"Ruby!" she shrieked, sprinting down the wet steps, ignoring the rain, and sliding onto her knees on the sidewalk to wrap her arms around me. She pulled me tight against her chest, shaking violently, burying her face in my wet hair. "Oh god, Ruby! Where were you?! You weren't on the school bus! I called the library, I called the school... I thought someone took you!"
"I'm okay, Mom! I'm okay!" I cried, wrapping my arms around her neck. "I went downtown! I found him!"
"Found who?" my mother whispered, pulling back to wipe the rain from my eyes.
She looked up.
Standing three feet away from us on the wet sidewalk was Nathaniel Graves.
My mother froze. All the color instantly drained from her face, leaving her as pale as a corpse. Her grip on my shoulders went slack. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out for five long, agonizing seconds.
"You..." she whispered, her voice filled with a horrifying combination of terror, hatred, and grief. "Nathaniel Graves."
"Clara," Nathaniel said softly, his voice breaking as he looked down at his son's widow. He took off his suit jacket and stepped forward, extending it toward her to cover her soaked shoulders. "Clara, please."
"GET AWAY FROM US!" my mother screamed, leaping to her feet and pulling me violently behind her back. She backed up against the rusted iron railing, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. "Get away from my daughter! You took David from me! You sent your men to threaten me! Haven't you taken enough from my life?!"
"Clara, listen to me—" Nathaniel pleaded, taking another step.
"I signed your papers!" my mother sobbed hysterically, rain streaming down her face. "I changed my name! I moved into this dump! I promised I would never tell Ruby who her father was! I kept my end of the bargain! Why are you doing this now?! Why are you kicking us out onto the street?!"
Henderson the landlord, seeing the powerful billionaire standing on the sidewalk, suddenly realized who was in front of him. He scurried forward like a rat, bowing his head obsequiously.
"Mr. Graves!" Henderson gushed, offering a greasy, wet hand. "What an honor, sir! I didn't realize you were personally inspecting the Elm Street clearance! Don't worry, sir, we are removing this squatter and her child immediately as per your corporate eviction mandate—"
PAFF!
Nathaniel didn't even look at Henderson. He turned his body and backhanded the landlord across the face with such immense force that the fat man was knocked completely off his feet, crashing face-first into a muddy puddle on the sidewalk.
The moving men froze, dropping the mattress onto the steps in shock.
"Touch her again, or speak her name again," Nathaniel said down to the groaning landlord lying in the mud, "and I will personally buy the prison you will spend the rest of your life in."
Nathaniel turned back to my mother, his eyes red with tears.
"Clara," Nathaniel said, dropping to his knees right there on the wet, filthy pavement of Elm Street, ignoring the water soaking through his trousers. "I didn't know. God help me, I didn't know."
My mother stared at the powerful billionaire kneeling in the mud before her, her jaw slack, her tears stopping for a fraction of a second.
"They told me you died in the hospital, Clara," Nathaniel wept, holding his hands up toward her in complete surrender. "They told me my son died, and that my granddaughter died in the operating room. My former vice president... Julian's father... he forged the records. He stole the money. He sent those men to threaten you using my name!"
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My mother gasped, pressing a trembling hand to her heart. "What... what are you saying?"
"I am saying that I have spent eight years grieving a dead family while you were suffering in the dark," Nathaniel cried out. "I am saying that my son's wife and my granddaughter are standing in front of me... and I will spend every second of the life I have left making this right."
