Chapter 5 - The Eviction of Margaret and David
By two o'clock that afternoon, the emergency orders had been signed, sealed, and delivered by two county sheriff deputies accompanied by Marcus and Victoria's junior associate.
I was still discharged to my father's estate—a sprawling, secure limestone property tucked behind iron gates on the north side of the city—but my father arranged for a live video feed of the proceedings at Meadowbrook Lane to be streamed directly to my tablet in the hospital room.
Emma was still fast asleep, exhausted from the trauma of the night before, resting in a side room under the care of a trusted family nurse.
On the screen, the high-definition camera mounted on the sheriff's body cam showed the front porch of my house.
David, released on a temporary desk appearance ticket for domestic assault pending arraignment, was standing on the porch in a rumpled shirt, his face bruised by his own panic and lack of sleep. Beside him stood Margaret, her face twisted into a mask of pure aristocratic fury as she brandished a leather handbag like a weapon.
"This is an outrage!" Margaret shrieked at the two deputies standing on the welcome mat. "We own this property! My son is a pillar of this community! You can't just throw us out into the street like common criminals!"
"Ma'am, read the court order," the lead deputy replied evenly, holding up a certified document bearing the wet signature of a superior court judge. "The petitioner, Sarah Sterling, is the sole legal owner of this residence per prenuptial trust. You have thirty minutes to collect your personal belongings under our supervision. Anything left behind will be impounded."
"Sarah!" David roared, stepping directly toward the deputy's body camera as if he were looking straight into my eyes. "Sarah, pick up the phone! You're making a catastrophic mistake! Mother and I built a life here—you can't just throw us out like garbage!"
I watched the screen from my hospital bed, taking a slow sip of water. I didn't flinch. I didn't feel a single twinge of pity.
"Look at him," my father murmured, standing behind my bed with his arms crossed over his chest. "A bully always thinks the rules only apply when they're winning."
On the feed, Marcus stepped into view, holding two large plastic contractor trash bags. He walked straight past David and opened the front door, motioning to Margaret.
"You heard the officer, Mrs. Vance. Thirty minutes. Start packing your silver spoons," Marcus rumbled, his voice dripping with dry amusement.
Margaret let out a shriek that sounded like a wounded animal. "You can't touch my things! Do you know who my brother is?! He's a federal—"
"Your brother is currently ignoring your phone calls because his firm handles our corporate compliance," Victoria's voice chimed in over speakerphone from her office. She had patched herself into the feed. "Mrs. Vance, if you or your son step foot within five hundred feet of Sarah Sterling, or attempt to contact her or her legal counsel outside of official proceedings, the bail revocation hearing tomorrow morning will send David straight to county jail without bond."
The color drained entirely from David's face. All the bluster, all the arrogant posturing, all the quiet cruelty he had practiced in our kitchen for three years evaporated into thin air. He looked smaller, older, pathetic in his rumpled designer clothes.
"Sarah..." David mumbled, his voice cracking as he looked directly at the camera lens one last time. "Please... let's talk about this. For Emma's sake."
I reached out my thumb, tapped the screen of my tablet, and clicked End Stream.
The video went black.
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I set the tablet down on the white sheet, looked up at my father, and smiled.
"Let's go home, Dad."
