I stood in the middle of the living room, breath ragged, eyes on the shattered necklace chain on the floor. I knelt, silently, and picked up each broken piece of the pendant with trembling fingers.
That was it.
That was the last line they crossed.
I walked straight to my room, pulled out my phone, and dialed the landlady.
“Hello?” she answered sleepily.
“It’s Elena,” I said flatly. “I want to sell the apartment.”
“Sell?” she repeated. “Right away?”
“Yes,” I said. “List it. Put it on the market.”
“Yes,” I said. “List it. Put it on the market.”
There was a short silence on the other end of the line, then the real estate agent cleared her throat. “Understood, Ms. Reid. Just to confirm, you’re selling the property fully? Will there be any tenants to notify?”
I exhaled slowly. “Yes. Three of them—Gabriel, Nathan, and Sabrina. They’ve been living there with me for years. I want official notice sent to them after I’ve left.”
She paused. “Any rental contracts?”
“No,” I replied flatly. “They’ve been staying here for free. It was never supposed to be permanent.”
The apartment had been a gift from my parents when I entered college. A quiet, two-bedroom flat turned into a shared space once Nathan and Gabriel moved to the city with me. Sabrina followed a year later, right after her adoption was finalized. I had begged my parents to let me live independently, to build a life with them, to be free from the pressure of our family’s company.
They didn’t understand. They thought I was reckless. But I was just in love—with Nathan, with the idea of a found family, with the dream of forever.
Back then, nothing mattered more than being together.
Now, everything I built had crumbled.
“I want an invoice calculated,” I added to the agent. “Back rent for the past four years. Break it down clearly. If they can’t pay it, kindly begin the process to remove them.”
“Consider it done,” she replied. “I’ll prepare all paperwork discreetly and schedule the listing.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
After ending the call, I dialed another number—my storage and estate agent.
“I want all my things sold,” I told him. “Furniture. Appliances. Whatever’s still here.”
“All of it?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m not taking anything with me.”
The call ended, but I didn’t move right away.