The neon glow of Frank Bennett's supermarket spilled across the cracked parking lot, drowning everything in a harsh, buzzing light. A restless crowd swarmed outside, murmuring like bees around a broken hive, their breath curling in the cold night air. Desperation clung to them like a second skin.
Frank shuffled forward, his thin body swallowed by an old, threadbare jacket. Despite the tremble in his hands, there was a stubborn set to his jaw as he faced the line of burly men guarding his store's entrance. Years of struggle carved deep lines into his weathered face, but his eyes still burned with a flicker of fight.
Eliana hurried behind him, curls bouncing with every step, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out as if to steady him but pulled back, her fingers curling into her palm. Near the car, Jason and Sarai hovered in the shadows, their silhouettes sharp and still against the flickering neon, watching the chaos unfold with silent dread.
Frank stopped just a few feet away from them. Their dark suits swallowed the neon light, turning them into towering shadows. The tallest one, built like a tower with eyes as cold and unfeeling as steel, glared down at him without so much as a blink. The restless murmurs of the crowd fell away, leaving a heavy, consuming silence as tension coiled around them like a snake ready to strike.
"Excuse me," Frank began, his voice raspy but firm, "what's going on here? This is my store. Why are you blocking the doors?"
The tower-looking man tilted his head, his lips curling into a smirk that looked really scary. "Your store?" he said, his voice low and mocking. "Not anymore, Mr. Bennett. This property belonged to the late Mr. Kenneth Holloway. We're here to confiscate it on behalf of his children."
Frank's breath caught, his eyes widening as if the ground had split beneath him. "Confiscate?" he stammered, his hands rising to clutch at his chest. "That's impossible! Kenneth gave me the deed to this supermarket. It's mine, legally mine!"
The man exchanged a glance with his colleagues, their faces impassive. "The deed, you say?" he drawled, crossing his arms. "Mr. Holloway wasn't in his right mind when he signed that over. You'll need to return it. If you want to fight this, take it to court. But for now—" he gestured toward the parking lot with a lazy flick of his hand—"you need to evacuate the premises."
Frank's knees buckled, and he crumpled to the asphalt like a log. A choked sob tore from his throat, raw and guttural, echoing in the stunned silence. The crowd gasped, some stepping back, others craning their necks to gawk. Eliana dropped to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she gripped his shoulders. "Papa!" she cried out, her voice splintering like shattered glass. Tears streaked down her warm brown cheeks, glinting under the neon lights like tiny shards of sorrow. "Please, Papa, don't do this. We'll find a way, I swear. Just… please."
Frank's sobs shook his frail body, his hands clawing at the cold ground as if he could pin himself to the life slipping away. "It's gone," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Everything… my store… my pride…"
Jason stood frozen a few paces away, his eyes wide with shock, his golden-boy charm dimmed by the scene unfolding before him. His jaw twitched, but no words came. Sarai, however, stood poised like a statue, her glossy black bun gleaming under the lights. Her green eyes glinted with something sharp—amusement, perhaps, or triumph—though her lips remained pressed into a thin, neutral line. A faint smirk flickered at the corner of her mouth, gone so quickly it might have been a trick of the light.
Eliana's gaze darted to the tower-looking man, who watched the scene with detached amusement. "Papa, come on," she urged, her voice trembling as she tugged at Frank's arm. "Let's go home. We'll rest, and we'll—"
"Home?" the man interrupted, his voice cutting through her words. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on the gravel. "I'm afraid that's not yours either, Miss Bennett. The house was also a gift from Mr. Holloway. It's being reclaimed."
Eliana froze, her hands still on her father's shoulders. Her breath hitched, her eyes snapping up to meet the man's. "What?" she whispered, her heart hanging by a tread.
"You heard me," he said, his smirk widening. "You've got one week to clear out your belongings. After that, we'll remove them by force. Consider it a courtesy."
Eliana's shock shattered into fury. She surged to her feet, her slender frame trembling with rage. "This is wrong!" she shouted, her voice ringing across the parking lot. "You can't just take our home, our livelihood! This is an infringement on our rights!"
The man laughed, a deep, mocking sound that sent a chill down her spine. "Rights?" he said, stepping closer until he loomed over her. "Take it to court, sweetheart. But let me assure you—you and your daddy won't win."
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, a mix of outrage and confusion. A woman in a green apron clutched her reusable bag, her eyes brimming with tears. A teenage cashier whispered to his friend, his face pale. The hefty men moved forward, their presence a silent command. "Clear out!" one of them barked, waving his arms. "All of you, now!"
The crowd scattered like leaves in a storm, some stumbling, others cursing under their breath. Eliana helped Frank to his feet, her hands gentle but firm. His face was pale, his eyes hollow. Jason hurried over, his jaw still tight, and gripped Frank's other arm. "Come on, Frank," he said, his voice low. "Let's get you to the car."
Sarai sauntered over, her heels clicking on the asphalt. "Oh, baby," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "This is just awful. I can't imagine what you're going through."
Eliana managed a weak nod, her throat too tight to speak. Jason guided Frank to the car, settling him into the backseat. Eliana slid in beside her father, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Jason took the driver's seat, and Sarai claimed the front passenger side again, her posture as regal as ever.
As the car pulled out of the lot, Jason glanced at Eliana through the rearview mirror. "Everything's gonna be alright, El," he said, his voice warm but strained. "This is just a mix-up. You'll see."
Sarai turned slightly, her eyes softening as she looked back. "Absolutely," she said, her tone smooth as silk. "You two are so strong. You'll get through this."
Frank stared out the window, his breathing shallow. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Both of you."
Eliana's heart ached, her mind a whirlwind of grief and fear. She reached for her father's hand, squeezing it gently. "We'll figure it out, Papa," she whispered, though the words felt hollow.
The drive to their house—their soon-to-be-lost house—was silent, the city lights blurring past in streaks of color. When they pulled into the driveway, the modest home loomed like a ghost, its familiar warmth now tainted by the threat of loss. Jason parked and turned to Eliana, his hazel eyes searching hers. "I'd stay, El, but my parents just called. They need me home right away. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
Eliana nodded, her throat tight. "Okay," she said softly. "Thanks, Jason."
Sarai leaned over, her expression one of practiced concern. "I'd love to stay, Eliana, but I've got a test first thing tomorrow. I need to study. You understand, right?"
"Of course," Eliana said, forcing a small smile. "You've done so much already. Thank you, Sarai."
"Drive safe," she added, her voice trembling as she watched them climb back into the car. Jason gave her a reassuring wave, and Sarai offered a delicate smile before the car pulled away, its taillights fading into the night.
Eliana turned to her father, who stood slumped in the driveway, his eyes fixed on the house. "Come on, Papa," she said gently, looping her arm through his. "Let's get inside."
They shuffled toward the front door, the porch light spreading it's soft glow over the peeling paint and cracked steps. Eliana fumbled with her keys, her hands still shaking, and pushed the door open. The familiar scent of roses and old wood greeted them, a cruel reminder of the life they were about to lose.
Frank stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the cozy living room—the faded couch, the framed photos, the supermarket's first dollar bill mounted on the wall. His face crumpled, and he sank to the floor with a heavy thud, his knees hitting the hardwood. "It's all gone," he whispered, his voice breaking. "The store… this house… everything Kenneth gave us…"
Eliana gasped, dropping to her knees beside him. "Papa!" she cried, her heart lurching. She wrapped her arms around him, her tears soaking into his jacket. The weight of the day—the eviction, the supermarket, the house—settled down on her like a stone, threatening to crush her. But as she held her father, her quiet strength flickered, a spark in the darkness.
The night closed in around the little house, its secrets and sorrows locked within its walls. For Eliana and Frank, their world had crumbled, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty.