Our Driver Thought He Owned Us Chapter 2

Howard finally shut up.

But the look he gave me was dripping with resentment and unearned arrogance.

That evening, in our family group chat, my mom and sister both sent me a Zelle notification. Ten thousand dollars each.

Mom: "Elliot, honey, don't listen to a word Howard said. You will always be my baby."

Izzy: "Seriously, Elliot. The driver is acting so bizarre lately. A couple of weeks ago, he literally pushed his son's contact card on me."

My heart skipped a beat. “You didn’t add him, did you?”

A brief pause.

Izzy: “Somehow he got my number and added me first. But don't worry, I blocked and deleted him immediately.”

I thought back to Howard's behavior toward my mother and sister this morning. It all clicked.

He was trying to make a play for my mother, while simultaneously setting up his son to marry my sister. A double jackpot. He wanted to swallow our family whole.

But my parents were happily married. My dad just spent most of the year overseas managing our international branches. Howard must have assumed my mother was a lonely divorcée or a wealthy widow.

An audio message from my dad popped up in the chat. His voice was tight with barely suppressed rage:

"You two just sat there and let some hired hand bully my son?"

My mom and sister replied almost instantly, their voices trembling with guilt:

"I'll fire him first thing tomorrow!"

I jumped in to stop them. "Wait until we find a replacement."

My mom's motion sickness was no joke, and Howard really was a remarkably smooth driver. I figured we could tolerate him for just a little longer while we quietly scouted a new agency.

The next morning, my mom left early to visit a high-end domestic staffing agency, and Izzy went to her office.

I had pulled an all-nighter finishing a project proposal and had only just fallen asleep when a racket outside my door jolted me awake.

It was the obnoxious, heavy thudding of sneakers stomping up the stairs, followed by a loud, grating voice boisterously shouting in the hallway. It was impossible to sleep through.

I threw open my bedroom door, my face clouded with exhaustion and irritation.

"Howard, keep it down. Some of us are trying to sleep."

A completely unfamiliar, gravelly voice barked back.

"It's the middle of the day, what are you still sleeping for? Get over here and help me unpack my bags."

I rubbed my bleary eyes.

Standing in our hallway was a heavy-set, sunburned young man, looking at me with pure arrogance.

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?"

Howard emerged from the guest room next door, his chin held high.

"This is my son, Dustin. You'd better show him some respect from now on."

I let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. I didn't care if his son was the president.

"Howard, this is my house. You are our driver. And you're telling me to show your son respect?"

Howard smirked, looking down his nose at me.

"You're a twenty-eight-year-old freeloader who doesn't even have a real career. What right do you have to talk down to anyone?"

"Who knows who'll be running this house soon anyway."

Dustin sized me up from head to toe, a look of disgust on his face.

"Just as useless as my dad said."

"I'll give you twenty-four hours to pack your bags. Tomorrow, you're out of here."

"Your sister is the one keeping this place. A grown man trying to squeeze his sister out of her own inheritance? Have some shame."

I kicked away the duffel bag Dustin had tossed onto the floor.

"Get out of my house right now, or I'm calling the police for trespassing."

Howard pointed a finger at me, his face turning red as he screamed.

"Don't you dare act ungrateful! Your mother has carried you for twenty-eight years, that's long enough! It's time for you to get out."

"Your sister is staying. The house belongs to her. What are you trying to steal?"

"A grown man with no job, no drive, and you actually think you have a right to this estate?"

"Go look in a mirror and see if you even deserve to stand here!"

His toxic words made my blood boil.

"Howard, you're fired. Both of you, get the hell out of my house."

Howard didn't even flinch.

"You don't have the authority to fire us."

"Who was there to take care of your mother when she was sick? Did you spend a single dime? Did you lift a single finger?"

"I’ve bled for this household, while you’ve done nothing but leach. What gives you the right to raise your voice to me?"

I didn't waste another breath. I pulled out my phone to dial 911.

Dustin lunged forward, snatched the phone out of my hand, and slammed it onto the hardwood floor, shattering the screen.

"You little punk. You don't know when to play nice."

"I guess we've spoiled you too much. Today, I'm going to teach you who really runs this place."