He poured a glass of vintage champagne and stepped back politely.
The cork had popped only moments earlier and the sound had echoed sharply through the silent night.
I took a slow sip as the cold dry liquid slid down my throat.
Standing at the top of the marble staircase, I looked down at my parents.
They held their cheap suitcases while the wind blew through the long driveway. After several seconds they turned away from the mansion and began walking slowly down the dark gravel road.
Their expensive shoes stumbled over the stones and their silhouettes gradually shrank into the darkness until the night swallowed them completely.
I raised my glass again and enjoyed the quiet.
The toxic family that had spent decades trying to bury me was finally gone.
Six months later the property looked completely different.
The old colonial mansion with its marble pillars and chandeliers no longer existed. I had hired a demolition crew only one week after that night to tear the entire structure down to its foundation.
In its place stood a modern building constructed from glass and steel surrounded by new gardens filled with spring flowers.
A red ribbon stretched across the double glass entrance.