Lena ignored them all. She met with her attorney, Melissa Grant, who looked over the bank transfers Lena had meticulously saved. Every memo line read: RENT.
“In Ohio,” Melissa said, “judges don’t care about family ‘respect.’ They care about the fact that you paid for a space and they took it without a court order. This is a slam dunk.”
On Monday, Lena returned with a police escort to retrieve her essentials. The house smelled of lemon polish and a rotting, desperate resentment. Her room had been rifled through; a lamp was broken, and a textbook was missing. Erica lounged in the hall, trying to look bored.
“You really brought a cop,” Erica sneered.
Lena photographed the broken lamp. “I brought a witness,” she replied, her voice as steady as a surgical blade.
