Chapter 4 - The Thirty-Minute Eviction
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like a countdown to an inevitable explosion.
Gene remained frozen against the mahogany sideboard, her eyes darting between the shattered crystal at her feet and the brass key resting on the table.
“You’re bluffing,” she whispered, though her voice lacked any shred of its usual venomous authority.
“You wouldn’t dare humiliate me in front of the neighbors on Christmas Day.”
Brandon didn't answer with words; he simply pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen twice, and held it to his ear.
“Deputy Miller? Yes, this is Brandon Sterling,” he said into the receiver, his eyes locked dead on his mother’s face.
“We are at the estate now, and the triggering event has occurred just as Judge Vance outlined in the emergency injunction.”
“You can bring the unit up the driveway.”
Gene let out a strangled cry, her hands flying to her mouth.
Outside, through the frosted glass of the bay windows, the crunch of heavy tires against gravel shattered the winter quiet.
Two dark county cruiser headlights cut through the morning snow, illuminating the pristine lawn Gene spent thousands of dollars maintaining each spring.
Uncle Richard grabbed his winter parka from the back of his chair, completely abandoning his plate of uneaten food.
“Brandon, please, think about what this looks like to the county board,” Richard pleaded, sweat shining on his forehead.
“If the news gets hold of an eviction at Sterling Oak Manor on December 25th, the stock in the commercial holdings will tank by Monday morning!”
“Then you better start selling your shares right now, Richard,” Brandon replied without turning his head.
“Because this family’s public image died the second my mother decided to treat a seven-year-old like garbage to feed her own ego.”
The heavy oak front door swung open with a cold blast of air, and Deputy Miller stepped into the marble foyer, accompanied by an older officer with gray hair.
Both men took off their winter caps out of respect, but neither of them looked surprised to be there.
Arthur Sterling had been a major supporter of the local county services, and the officers had known Brandon since he was a boy playing baseball in the back meadow.
“Morning, Brandon,” Deputy Miller said, his voice polite but firm.
“Mrs. Sterling.”
Gene tried to stand up straight, smoothing her wool cardigan and attempting to summon the terrifying matriarch persona that had ruled this town for forty years.
“Officer, arrest my son,” she commanded, pointing a shaking finger toward the dining table.
“He is trespassing, he has forged documents, and he is creating a disturbance in my private residence!”
Deputy Miller didn't even look at the table; he pulled a blue legal folder from beneath his arm and opened it under the foyer chandelier.
“Mrs. Sterling, I have an expedited writ of possession signed by Judge Vance at eight o'clock yesterday evening,” Miller stated calmly.
“The deed for Sterling Oak Manor was transferred into the Holly Marie Sterling Irrevocable Trust effective twelve midnight.”
“As the designated trustee, Brandon Sterling has the absolute legal authority to designate who occupies this property.”
“We have been instructed to oversee a peaceful thirty-minute transition so you may gather your immediate personal belongings, medications, and clothing.”
The word thirty-minute hit Gene like a physical blow, sending her stumbling back against the wall.
“Thirty minutes?” she gasped, her voice shrill with terror.
“This house has four floors, twelve rooms, thirty years of my life are in these walls!”
“You have thirty minutes for your clothes and your purse, Gene,” Brandon said, stepping forward until he stood between her and Holly.
“Everything else—the furniture, the silver, the art, and the china—remains on the property inventory until probate conducts the final audit on Tuesday.”
“If you touch one piece of Arthur’s estate property on your way out, Deputy Miller will charge you with grand larceny before you reach the front gates.”
Gene looked at her eldest son, her eyes wide with frantic desperation.
“Richard! Do something!” she wailed, clutching at his arm.
“Take me to your house, tell them this is illegal!”
Richard glanced nervously at Deputy Miller, then at Brandon, and finally down at his own expensive leather boots.
Richard had two mortgages on his suburban mansion, both co-signed by the Sterling commercial trust that Brandon now partially oversaw.
He knew that crossing Brandon today meant financial ruin by the end of the month.
Slowly, deliberately, Richard pulled his arm free from his mother’s grasp.
“I... I don't have room in the car with the kids' presents, Mom,” Richard muttered, looking at the floorboards.
“You should take a cab to the St. Regis downtown, I’ll call you tonight.”
Gene stared at her favorite son as if he had just driven a knife between her ribs.
“You coward,” she hissed, her voice trembling with pure venom.
“I gave you everything, I gave you your partnership, I made you who you are!”
May you like
“And you made yourself homeless this morning over a four-dollar candle, Mother,” Brandon whispered coldly.
“Your thirty minutes started sixty seconds ago.”
