“She said there were no beds left. She and Sarelle took the rooms. Said the couch was broken. This was the only option.”

I hugged her gently. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. This isn’t right. I’ll fix it.”

She nodded, trusting me. That trust cut deeper than Vionna’s betrayal.

I checked the guest room. Bed untouched. Crib unmoved. Vionna had simply shut the door and lied.

I didn’t wake anyone. Aurelia needed rest more than I needed confrontation. But by dawn, I had a plan.

I drove to a motel, bought a cardboard box from the gift shop, and wrapped it in cheap blue ribbon.

At 8 a.m., I returned. Vionna was in the kitchen, sipping coffee, scrolling her phone. She smiled sweetly. “Back already? Got gifts?”

“Sure did,” I said.

She clapped. “Let me see!”

I handed her the box. Inside were folded black trash bags.

“Packing material,” I said. “You and Sarelle have three days to move out.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

Aurelia appeared, hand on her belly. “Dad, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” I said.

Vionna stood. “You’re kicking us out? Over a mattress?”

“A mattress?” I snapped. “You lied to my pregnant daughter. Humiliated her. Made her sleep on the floor. This isn’t about a mattress—it’s about decency.”