Chapter 4 - Eviction
The headlights of two county patrol cars swept across the white facade of the house, cutting through the dusk like searchlights. Outside, the autumn wind had picked up, scattering dry leaves against the wheels of Victoria’s designer suitcases, which had been unceremoniously carried out to the driveway by the estate groundskeeper.
Victoria stood beside the open trunk of Julian’s Mercedes, her teeth chattering despite the mild temperature. “Julian, do something! Call Senator Hayes! Call your golf partners! You cannot let this withered old witch throw us out onto the street like transients!”
Julian leaned against the car hood, his tie loosened, his face ashen. He was dialing number after number, only to be met with automated voicemails or polite, hurried excuses from men who had courted his favor only twenty-four hours earlier. Rumors moved faster than wire transfers in their social circle; word had already leaked that the Vance development firm had defaulted on its morning reserve call.
Deputy Sheriff Miller, a broad-shouldered man whose family had farmed the land adjacent to Windmere for three generations, stood by the porch steps with his hands hooked casually into his utility belt.
“Ma'am,” Miller said, addressing Victoria without looking at her. “The property line begins at the stone pillars two hundred yards down the drive. You have eight minutes before I cite you for criminal trespass. I suggest you get inside the vehicle.”
“Do you know who my father is?” Victoria spat, venom dripping from every syllable. “My family owns half the commercial ports in Delaware! When I am done with this town, you will be sweeping gas stations!”
“Your father went through Chapter 11 bankruptcy three years ago, Mrs. Vance,” Robert said, appearing silently on the porch beside Deputy Miller. He held a manila folder in his arm. “His remaining holdings were acquired through a shell entity owned by the Windmere Family Trust. Technically speaking, you are currently living on credit extended by the woman you struck across the face.”
Victoria’s voice died in her throat. She looked at Julian, her eyes wide with horrified realization. “Julian... is that true?”
Julian didn't answer. He couldn't. He looked up at the second-floor window, where a single warm light glowed behind the curtains. He could see the faint silhouette of his mother watching them from her study, completely still, like an empress overseeing the dismantling of an unruly province.
“Get in the car, Victoria,” Julian whispered, his voice broken.
“No! I won't leave without my jewelry! My fur coats in the cedar closet! My—”
“Everything inside that house was cataloged under the 1968 trust inventory,” Robert interrupted coldly. “Items acquired through marital allowance remain frozen pending forensic audit. Good evening, Mrs. Vance.”
May you like
The heavy iron gates clanged shut behind the Mercedes as it rolled down the dark gravel drive. In the silence that followed, Evelyn turned away from the window, picked up her telephone, and dialed a private number she had kept locked in her safe for thirty years.
“It is time,” she said when the line connected. “Bring the girl home.”
