“My car! Look at my car!”
I turned on him.
“Your car just smashed into my house!”
He pointed at the concrete enclosure.
“None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t built that ridiculous wall!”
“And none of it would’ve happened if you’d stayed off my property!”
We shouted over each other until Orson intervened.
“Enough. Nobody’s injured, and we’re keeping it that way. The vehicle isn’t being lifted again today.”
Richard looked ready to explode.
For once, even his money couldn’t change the answer.
That evening, after everyone left, I stood outside surveying the damage.
The Mercedes remained inside the enclosure, surrounded by concrete and scattered debris.
My porch was declared unsafe to use until a contractor inspected it.
I had spent months imagining Richard being forced to face the consequences of his arrogance.
Now those consequences were sitting against my own house.
Fletcher returned the next morning.
He examined the broken support and shook his head.
