The Freeloader Calls Me the Leech

As I listened to Jack's rant, the frustration that had been building inside me began to ease a little.

"Forget it. It's not like he's going to stick around anyway. Rita finally found someone, so let her have her moment. I'll just keep my distance from now on," I said to comfort Jack, but maybe I was also trying to convince myself.

Jack was still fired up. "You can't just let it slide. Next time he dares to act up on your turf, shove the property deed right in his face. Let him know who the real owner is."

Easy for him to say. But in the end, I still had to consider the nearly two decades of history between Rita and me.

Her family was among the few relatives I had left. When my parents were still alive, her family had treated me well enough. So, I didn't want to let things get too ugly.

What I expected was that my restraint would give Benny the mistaken impression that I was an easy target.

That very evening, he brazenly moved in, dragging several large suitcases behind him.

It seemed like he completely ignored what I said. He was dead set on painting me as the leech and gold digger, all to stake his claim, kick me out of the villa, and help himself to a life of luxury.

He carried himself like he already owned the place and even made a point of being lovey-dovey with Rita whenever I was around, as if desperate to make sure I knew just how great their relationship was.

He had no right, but he kept sticking his nose into every little detail of my life.

"Is the clock in your study an antique? Isn't it dangerous to leave it there? What if it gets accidentally knocked over? That must have cost a pretty penny, right?

"And why do both the fridge and AC take up so much electricity? This household really falls apart without a man around."

Benny also made a point of prying into my expenses.

"Ruben, you don't exactly cheap out on yourself, do you? I see you wearing designer watches. Us men don't need to chase after all that superficial stuff, you know? Character is what really matters.

"Rita works hard for her money. As her cousin, you shouldn't be mooching off her and splurging like this on top of it."

Benny was completely lost in his own fantasy, and I couldn't be bothered to engage with him.

But not even two days later, I came home and noticed the furniture had been rearranged.

A painting that my father, Vernon Johnston, had loved most during his lifetime had been taken down and replaced with a cheap oil painting that reeked of paint thinner.

And the antique clock from my study was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a massive floor-standing stereo system.

I found Benny directing my housekeeper, Colleen Foley, as she moved things around.

"Where's the antique clock in my study?" I asked coldly.

Benny turned and answered with complete confidence, "Oh, that thing? It looked expensive—what if it got broken? So, I had Colleen put it away. And we need to replace the appliances too. They're all so impractical."

"Where did you put it?"

"There's so much stuff. I can't quite recall at the moment."

I pressed him further, but he waved his hand impatiently. "It's just a clock. Why are you so hung up on it? I'm busy right now. I'll bring it to you when I find it."

I grabbed him by the collar and snapped, "Who said you could touch my stuff? If it goes missing, you're going to pay for it."

That antique clock held endless memories for me, as it was a birthday gift from my father when I turned ten years old.

Rita came rushing over when she heard the commotion. She naturally positioned herself beside Benny, shielding him, and frowned at me.

"Ruben, Benny was just trying to help this place look a little nicer. It's just a clock. Don't be so difficult. Even if it really is lost, I'll just buy you another one."

Watching them act so close and united made me sick to my stomach.