My Daughter-in-Law Evicted Me For Being ‘Dead Weight’ — Until She Found Out I Own Her Law Firm
Part 2
The heavy door of the Mercedes closed with a solid, satisfying thud, instantly silencing the chaotic noise of the city street.
“Home, sir?”
Brian asked from the driver’s seat as he pulled smoothly into the downtown traffic.
“Home,” I confirmed, sinking into the plush leather.
We drove through the bustling streets, leaving the cramped Yaletown condo far behind us, and headed straight up into the exclusive hills of West Vancouver.
The cramped city blocks gave way to towering old-growth cedars and massive, sprawling estates.
Brian turned the car onto a quiet, private street and pulled up to a four-thousand-square-foot post-and-beam mansion overlooking the glittering ocean.
My wife and I had custom-built this incredible house thirty years ago.
When Brenda died, it felt too vast and empty, so I told Tyler I had rented it out and moved in with him just to feel a connection to family again.
I had never mentioned that the ‘tenant’ was actually a private trust in my own name, keeping the estate perfectly maintained while I slept on their lumpy guest bed.
Brian carried my few remaining boxes inside and quietly took his leave for the weekend.
I stood in my massive foyer, breathing in the familiar scent of cedar wood and the ocean breeze, when my cell phone aggressively buzzed in my pocket.
It was Tyler.
I let it ring until it went to voicemail, but he immediately called back.
He called three more times in rapid succession before I finally answered.
“Dad, where the hell are you?”
Tyler practically shouted into the phone.
“I am home, Tyler, perfectly safe and sound,” I replied calmly.
“Home where?”
He demanded, his voice cracking with panic.
“Dad, you need to tell me what is going on right now.”
“That car, that imposing man in the suit, how on earth did you afford that?”
“I do not afford it, son,” I explained patiently.
“The firm provides it as standard transportation for its senior partners.”
There was a long, suffocating silence on the other end of the line.
“What firm?”
Tyler finally whispered.
“Chen and Associates,” I told him.
“Well, that is what it was called when I founded it.”
“These days, it is known as Mackenzie Holloway Chen, ever since our massive merger twenty-three years ago.”
“I am the Chen in the name, Tyler.”
The silence that followed was so profound I could hear my son’s ragged breathing through the speaker.
“Dad, that is Megan’s law firm,” Tyler choked out, completely devastated.
“Yes, it is,” I said, looking out through my floor-to-ceiling windows at the ocean.
“You are a partner at Mackenzie Holloway?”
He asked, sounding like the world was collapsing around him.
“I am the founding senior partner, Tyler.”
“I built that firm from the ground up, and while I stepped back from daily operations when your mother died, I still control the board of directors.”
“I still have the final say on all major decisions.”
“Decisions like partnership promotions,” Tyler realized, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper.
“Exactly,” I said softly, ending the call and leaving him alone with his horrifying realization.
Megan was about to face her final partnership review with the board on Friday, but how would she react when she walked into the boardroom and saw the ‘dead weight’ father-in-law sitting at the head of the table?
