Page 197 of Damaged Mogul
“How could he be squatting when he was married to your mom?”
“Prenup,” he says. “In the event of Mom’s passing, her house—and all its content and cars—reverted to me. That was part of her will. It was the proudest day of my life when I upgraded her home to an exclusive LA zip code she never thought she’d live in. It was a sad day when Judson moved in with her.”
“He didn’t have any claims to the house?”
“None whatsoever,” Gage says. “Since he wasn’t a tenant, he was a freeloader who had overstayed his welcome. The police were there to ensure things didn’t get out of hand, aka I didn’t force him to meet his maker.” From his flared nostrils, it’s clear, his bitterness towards Judson hasn’t subsided. Not that I blame him.
“Did you keep the house?”
He shakes his head. “I owned a house. Renting it was an option, but that house was tainted with Judson and Hartley’s betrayal. Since this is LA, and it was a fully renovated house in a coveted neighborhood, the house sold in a bidding war the minute it hit the market. I donated a large portion of the money to the single moms’ shelter Mom donated money and her time to.”
“That was so generous.”
“Mom would’ve wanted that,” he says. “When my half-sisters’ asshole father bailed out on them, Mom didn’t think she would ever be able to keep a roof over her head and food on the table, given she didn’t have much of an education. She was lucky her parents accepted her back into their tiny, rented house. And she was lucky she met my father. She never took her good fortune for granted.”
“Your mom, in heaven, must’ve been so proud of you on that day.”
He closes his eyes. “I hope so.”
I squeeze his hand.
Sad green eyes meet mine.
“I’m certain of it, Gage.”
With his lips pinched, he offers a tight nod.
“I guess Judson saw it coming?”
“Even though he had signed an iron-clad prenup, he was irate he had to move out. He felt he should’ve been able to stay until he found another place to live.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Good for your mom for getting that asshole to sign a prenup.”
“She didn’t want to––”
“She didn’t?”
“I put my foot down and I was unwilling to budge. That’s one thing all my sisters and I agreed on.”
“Thank God,” I say. “What about Hartley?”
“I blocked her ass so she couldn’t call or text. The temp who was working the phone after Mom’s passing had clear instructions to tell Hartley I was unavailable until the end of time when she phoned. That didn’t stop the bitch from trying harder. One day, I received a couriered envelope from her. It was a three-page hand-written letter.”
“What did the letter say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t read it?”
“No. I marched to the supply room with the letter in hand, powered up the shredder, and turned her words into confetti. Then, I grabbed the half-full plastic bag containing the shredded paper, headed towards the elevators, rode down to the building’s maintenance area located in the basement, and dumped the contents of the plastic bag into the secure bin. I didn’t want any part of that two-faced bitch in my surroundings.”
He doesn’t do things halfway.
“I made it clear to the security guards Hartley and Judson were persona non grata,” he says. “Same for any parcels or letters coming from the two low-lives.”
“You don’t need toxic people in your life. Onward and forward.”
“Not so fast,” he says.
