Linda gasped, clutching her chest, while Mark stood frozen in place, utterly humiliated. For the next ten minutes, under the watchful eyes of the police, Mark and his mother were forced to hastily shove their belongings into their suitcases. There was no grandeur, no triumphant takeover, and no lingering authority.

As the officers escorted them down the grand entryway, Mark turned back one last time, looking desperate and small against the vast expanse of the ocean behind me. “Elena… where are we supposed to go?”

I stood at the top of the porch steps, looking down at them as the cool sea wind rushed past. “You have a car, Mark. And you have your mother. I’m sure the two of you will be very comfortable finding a hotel.”

I watched as they dragged their luggage down the driveway, the front gates slowly swinging shut behind them, locking automatically. Walking out onto the green lawn, I picked up my navy-blue suitcase, brushed off the grass, and carried it back inside my home.