Chapter 6 - The Locks Are Changed
By the time I returned to the house at 2:00 PM, I had a team waiting for me.
Two professional locksmiths and two private security guards Marcus had recommended.
“Change every single lock,” I told the locksmiths. “The front door, the back door, the garage, even the windows.”
They worked quickly and efficiently.
While they secured the perimeter, I went into the master bedroom.
I grabbed three large, heavy-duty trash bags.
I didn’t neatly fold Julian’s designer suits or his expensive Italian shoes.
I threw them unceremoniously into the black plastic bags.
His watches, his golf clubs, his useless paperwork—all of it went out the front door.
I piled his entire existence onto the front porch.
At 3:45 PM, a silver BMW sped into the driveway, tires screeching against the pavement.
Julian leaped out of the car, looking completely unhinged.
His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and his face was purple with rage.
He stormed up the front steps, ignoring the trash bags, and shoved his key into the deadbolt.
It didn't turn.
He rattled the doorknob violently.
“Elena! Open this door!” he screamed, pounding his fists against the heavy wood.
I opened the door, keeping the metal security chain securely fastened.
I stood behind the crack, flanked by the two large security guards.
“You can't do this!” Julian yelled, spit flying from his lips. “This is my house! I have the deed!”
“You have a piece of paper you forged,” I corrected him calmly. “The real deed has been in a trust for weeks.”
Julian’s eyes darted wildly to the security guards.
“I’m calling the police,” he threatened, pulling out his phone. “I’m your husband. You can’t legally lock me out of my own residence!”
“Actually, Julian,” Marcus said, stepping up behind me. “She can.”
Marcus held up a legal document stamped by a judge.
“This is an emergency restraining order and an exclusive use of property decree, granted by the judge an hour ago based on evidence of financial fraud and emotional distress.”
Julian stared at the document, his bravado finally breaking.
“You... you set me up,” he stammered, stepping back.
“No,” I replied, my voice steady and resolute. “I just let you walk into the trap you built for me.”
“Elena, please,” his tone suddenly shifted to a pathetic whine. “Let’s talk about this. We can fix it. It was a mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was letting you touch the house my father built,” I said coldly.
A police cruiser pulled up to the curb.
I had called them twenty minutes ago, reporting a hostile trespasser.
Two officers stepped out, approaching Julian.
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to take your belongings and leave the premises,” the taller officer said, gesturing to the trash bags.
“I live here!” Julian cried, pointing at me. “She’s stealing my house!”
The officer looked at Marcus, who handed him a copy of the court order.
The officer nodded, turning back to Julian.
“Not anymore, sir. Grab your bags. Now.”
I watched as Julian, the man who thought he was a mastermind, dragged heavy trash bags across the pristine lawn in his expensive suit.
He looked small. Pathetic. Broken.
I closed the door, slid the deadbolt into place, and finally let out a long, deep breath.
The house was mine again.
May you like
But the war wasn’t completely over.
We still had to face the judge.
