My Stepson Evicted Me for His Dad's Mistress

Roman pressed his index finger against the glowing screen of my phone. I held his sharp gaze for a second before pressing the power button down until the screen went black.

"Smart move," Roman said. He leaned back into the leather upholstery, resting his arm on the center console. "Let them freeze in their own mess."

"Take me to the Serenity Retreat," I told him. "We have a lot of work to do if we want to open by next season."

"You don't want to watch the Edelweiss burn a little longer?"

"I prefer building my own empire over watching someone else lose theirs."

Roman smirked. He tapped the glass partition, signaling the driver. The Maybach engine purred, carrying us away from the mountain and down into the valley.

Four hours later, the rusted iron gates of the Serenity Alpine Retreat stood wide open to the freezing winter wind.

"Pull the left cable tighter," I instructed the foreman, pointing up at the roof. "Careful with the masonry. I don't want the bricks chipped."

The rusted metal letters spelling out the old retreat name groaned in protest. The crane hoisted them away from the stone facade, leaving behind a pale shadow on the brickwork.

Two local women wrapped in thick wool scarves stopped on the sidewalk behind me.

"Did you hear the police scanners last night?" the taller woman asked her friend, her voice carrying easily over the noise of the construction equipment.

"The Edelweiss lost all power," the second woman replied, laughing loudly. "Total blackout in the VIP wing. They said the new vice president, that Clara girl, barricaded herself in the penthouse. She wouldn't even come out to talk to the guests."

"I heard Julian was screaming at the front desk manager," the taller woman added. "Something about the emergency heating contractors refusing to show up without upfront payment."

"Well, Clara certainly didn't pay them. She just hid in her room crying."

They kept walking down the icy street. I did not turn around. I just watched the final iron letter drop onto the flatbed truck with a loud metallic clang.

"Looks like your replacement is drowning," Roman remarked. He stepped out from the main lobby doors, holding two steaming paper cups. He handed me one. Black coffee, no sugar.

"She wanted the ocean," I said, taking a sip. The bitter liquid warmed my throat. "She can learn to swim."

"Julian called my office," Roman mentioned, leaning against the brick wall. "He tried to demand I send emergency contractors up the mountain."

"Did you?"

"I told him my men were fully booked tearing down this sign." Roman took a drink of his coffee. "He screamed something about ruining his life and hung up."

"He did that to himself."

At three in the afternoon, a battered yellow taxi slammed its brakes right at the edge of the retreat's driveway. The tires skidded on the slush, sending gray water splashing onto the curb.

The back door flew open. Leo tumbled out, landing hard on his knees in a freezing puddle.

Mud coated his expensive designer snow boots. They were the pristine white leather ones Clara had bought him just last week, the ones he had bragged about in the hallway. Now, thick brown sludge caked the laces and stained the pristine sides.

"Mom!" Leo wailed, scrambling to his feet.

He looked awful. His custom Italian jacket was smeared with dirt. His face was red, streaked with tears and grime.

He stood in the driveway, sobbing loudly. One minute passed. Then two. He just stood there, crying like a toddler who dropped his ice cream, expecting the world to stop and comfort him.

"Hey! Kid! You bled mud all over my floor mats!" the taxi driver yelled out the window, honking his horn. "Who's paying for the detailing? Are you going to pay the meter or do I call the cops?"

I pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my coat pocket and handed it to Roman. He walked over, paid the driver, and waved the cab away without a single word.

Leo kept crying. A full three minutes of uninterrupted sobbing echoed across the quiet valley. I stood motionless, letting the cold wind whip my hair around my face.

"Are you finished?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Clara kicked me out!" Leo screamed, his voice cracking. He wiped his running nose on his muddy sleeve. "She locked the master bedroom! She said I was being annoying because I asked for pancakes!"

"Sounds like a personal problem," I said.

"She didn't even make me breakfast!" He pointed an accusatory finger toward the mountain peak. "She told me to eat a protein bar! You never made me eat protein bars! You always made fresh waffles!"

"I'm not your mother, Leo. You made that perfectly clear yesterday."

"But I'm hungry!" he yelled.

He threw his arms open and lunged forward.

He expected me to catch him. He expected me to pull him into a hug, brush the dirt off his clothes, and promise to fix everything, just like I had for the last seven years.

I stepped back half a pace.

Leo grasped empty air. His mud-caked snow boots slipped on the icy pavement. He crashed face-first into a fresh snowbank.

He sputtered, spitting out white flakes, staring up at me in pure shock.

"You let me fall!" he gasped.

"Gravity let you fall," I corrected. "I just didn't catch you."

"My boots!" Leo cried, staring at the scuffed leather. "Clara just bought these for me! They cost eight hundred dollars!"

"Then Clara can buy you a new pair."

"Take me back up the mountain," Leo demanded. He struggled to his knees, his expensive boots sliding uselessly against the ice. "You have to come back and cook for me. Julian is yelling at everyone, and Clara is just crying in her room. It sucks up there."

"Then you better get used to it."

"You can't just leave us!" Leo shouted, pounding his fist into the snow. "You're supposed to take care of us!"

"I resigned," I told him, turning my back on him. "I suggest you go find your real family."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held down the power button. The screen flared to life. Ninety-four missed calls.

I tapped Julian's name. The line did not even ring once before he picked up.

"Aria!" Julian's voice exploded through the speaker.

"Your son is at the Serenity Retreat," I said, ignoring his outburst. "Come pick up your trash."

Julian panted on the other end of the line, his voice thick with exhaustion and panic. "Aria, stop messing around. Clara can't read these financial reports at all. If you come back now, I can still give you back the VP position—"

"The Edelweiss is your problem now," I interrupted, and ended the call.