Chapter 6 - Eviction from Paradise
By the time I reached the ground level, the rain had begun to fall—a cold, relentless autumn downpour that drummed against the glass ceiling of the Grandview portico.
Outside, the scene was pure chaos. The luxury motorcoaches I had originally reserved to transport the guests back to their downtown hotels had been canceled alongside the rest of the package. More than a hundred people, dressed in silk gowns and designer tuxedos, were huddled beneath the narrow concrete overhang of the entrance, shivering in the damp wind and desperately trying to summon ride-share vehicles on their phones.
Because the estate was located forty minutes outside the city in an exclusive, secluded valley, there were virtually no drivers available.
Standing in the center of the driveway, completely drenched, was Tiffany.
Her veil had been torn, dragging through a muddy puddle on the asphalt. Her father was engaged in a screaming match with two uniformed county deputies who had arrived to clear the private roadway.
"I demand to speak to your supervisor!" Richard Vance roared, his wet tuxedo clinging to his protruding belly. "We are prominent citizens! We have been unlawfully evicted from a private venue!"
"Sir," the older deputy said, his hand resting calmly on his utility belt, "the property owner filed a formal trespassing complaint. You have five minutes to clear your party from this driveway, or you will be transported to the county holding facility."
"Do you know how much this dress cost?!" Tiffany shrieked, lunging toward the deputy with her manicured nails outstretched. "My mother-in-law assaulted me! She ruined my wedding! Arrest her! She's the one who should be in jail!"
The younger deputy stepped forward instantly, catching Tiffany’s wrist in mid-air and twisting it behind her back with practiced ease. "Ma'am, step back. You are interfering with an officer."
"Get your hands off my daughter!" Regina Vance screamed, lunging forward with her heavy designer purse raised like a weapon.
Within seconds, the pristine facade of the Vance family devolved into a street brawl. Guests pulled out their phones, the flashes illuminating the rain as Tiffany was pushed against the hood of a patrol cruiser, handcuffs clicking around her wrists. Her screams of profanity tore through the quiet country air, destroying whatever lingering shred of dignity her family possessed.
My private driver, Marcus, pulled my dark sedan up to the side exit, away from the flashing blue and red emergency lights. He stepped out with a large black umbrella, opening the door for me with a solemn nod.
"Are you all right, Mrs. Bennett?" Marcus asked gently.
May you like
I looked back one last time through the rain-streaked window. I saw Brandon running out of the main doors into the storm, his hair plastered to his forehead, shouting Tiffany’s name as she was shoved into the back of the police car. He stumbled on the wet pavement, falling to his hands and knees in the mud, watching the taillights pull away.
"I am fine, Marcus," I said, leaning my head back against the leather headrest. "Take me home."
