Chapter 5 - Eviction Notice
By midnight, Daniel was sitting in a holding cell at the Greenwich police precinct, and two transport vans had arrived at my front gates.
Eleanor and Arthur were still huddled in the foyer. Arthur was sitting on an antique bench, his hands buried in his face, while Eleanor paced back and forth like a caged hyena, her wet clothes half-dried into wrinkled, pathetic rags.
"We have nowhere to go," Eleanor snarled as I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of black coffee. "It's past midnight! The hotels in town will recognize our name! You can't throw us onto the street like stray dogs!"
"You're not stray dogs, Eleanor," I said, taking a slow sip from my porcelain mug. "Stray dogs have manners. Marcus has packed the three suitcases you brought from Ohio into the trunk of a taxi cab waiting at the gate."
"A taxi?" she shrieked, her voice hitting a dog-whistle pitch. "We drive a Mercedes! Where are the keys to our SUV?"
"The Mercedes was leased under my family's holding company," I replied, setting the mug down with a crisp click. "The repo truck pulled it off the property twenty minutes ago while the police were taking Daniel's statement. Your names were never on the lease. You have no vehicle."
Arthur finally stood up. His eyes were red, hollowed out by humiliation. He took his wife by the shoulder. "Eleanor. Stop. Don't say another word. Just pack what little dignity you have left and walk."
"Dignity?" Eleanor slapped his hand away. "She disgraced us! She humiliated our boy! She threw water in my face!"
"Because you demanded she wash your feet!" Arthur roared, his sudden outburst silencing Eleanor instantly. The old man was trembling with rage, his voice cracking through the quiet house. "You pushed and pushed! You told Daniel to demand more, to act like he owned this place, to put her in her place! You created this monster, Eleanor! You told him he deserved her money!"
Eleanor backed away, her mouth open in shock. "Arthur... I did it for our family..."
"You did it for your pride," Arthur said bitterly. He turned to me, lowering his head. "Victoria... I won't ask for your forgiveness. There is no forgiving what my son did, and there is no excuse for how my wife treated you. I am deeply, deeply ashamed."
"Take the taxi, Arthur," I said, my tone completely devoid of warmth, but without cruelty toward him. "The driver is paid to take you to a motel near the interstate. After tonight, do not contact me again. If Eleanor so much as sends a letter to this address, my legal team will file a permanent restraining order."
Arthur nodded once, took Eleanor by the elbow with an iron grip, and dragged her toward the door. Eleanor tried to pull back, looking at the soaring ceilings, the crystal chandeliers, the priceless artwork on the walls—the life she thought she had conquered.
"This isn't over!" she hissed through her teeth as Arthur pulled her across the threshold. "My son has friends! When he gets bail—"
"He's not getting bail," I said, stepping forward to shut the heavy double doors. "The judge on duty tonight is my godfather."
I slammed the oak doors shut and turned the deadbolt. The heavy thud echoed through the empty foyer.
For the first time in three years, the house was silent.
No Daniel criticizing my choice of wine. No Eleanor lecturing me about how a real woman serves her husband's family. No passive-aggressive comments about my late hours, my career, or my refusal to hand over the passwords to my personal trusts.
I walked back into the dining room. The overturned chair still lay on the rug. The dinner plates of roasted lamb were cold and congealed. And on the floor by Eleanor's seat was the silver basin, sitting in a puddle of water.
I picked up the basin, set it on the table, and pulled out my phone.
I dialed my chief legal counsel, Evelyn Cross.
The phone rang twice before Evelyn picked up, her voice crisp and fully alert despite the late hour. "Victoria. I saw the alert from the Greenwich precinct. Did Marcus secure the safe?"
"The safe is secured. Daniel is in custody," I said, walking toward the expansive glass windows that looked out over the dark Long Island Sound. "He tried to run with four million in forged credit and two point eight million in offshore wires. And Evelyn?"
"Yes, Victoria?"
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"I don't want a divorce settlement," I said, watching the moonlight cut across the black water. "I want total, unconditional annihilation. Every asset he touched, every bank account he hid, every friend who helped him. Strip him down to zero."
"Consider it done," Evelyn replied smoothly. "Get some sleep, Victoria. The war starts at eight a.m."
