Chapter 10 - The Eviction Aftermath And The New Locks
By 2:00 PM, the rain had completely vanished from the Chicago sky, replaced by the brilliant, cold blue of early October.
The sun poured through the high arched windows of Unit 4B, illuminating the newly restored hardwood floors.
The apartment was entirely empty of foreign property.
The fifty-five-inch television was gone.
The cheap running shoes were gone.
The smell of Tyler’s body spray had been eradicated by industrial eucalyptus cleaner used by the Northline maintenance crew.
In the center of the living room, my three cardboard boxes had been unpacked.
My framed photograph of my grandfather was back on the mahogany side table, standing upright beneath the warm lamp.
My tax records and corporate ledgers were locked securely inside a newly installed, fireproof digital safe bolted directly into the structural floor joists of my closet.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
I walked over and opened it.
Marcus Vance was standing in the hallway, holding a thick leather folder and an iPad.
Beside him stood Dave the locksmith, packing his heavy drill into his canvas bag.
"Master cylinders are fully calibrated, Mr. Cole," Dave said, wiping his brow.
"We re-keyed all eighteen units on the master line, changed the lobby electronic bypass codes, and wiped every single old physical key from the digital registry."
"If anyone tries to use that old brass key anywhere on this parcel, the system triggers a silent security alert to the 18th District desk."
"Thank you, Dave," I said, handing him an envelope containing his payment plus a substantial cash bonus.
"You did outstanding work."
Dave smiled, touched his cap, and headed toward the elevator.
Marcus stepped inside, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
"Sterling just called from the Daley Center," Marcus reported, opening his folder.
"The judge approved the conditional discharge order."
"Arthur and Tyler were released thirty minutes ago on personal recognizance."
"Arthur’s public defender handed over the executed Lake Geneva quitclaim deed."
"Sterling’s title officer is already recording the transfer with the Walworth County register of deeds in Wisconsin."
"As of 1:45 PM, JC Residential Holdings LLC is the sole legal owner of the lakefront parcel."
I looked out the window, watching the yellow cabs crawl along Belden Avenue below.
"What about Tyler's Oak Street eviction?"
"The Cook County Sheriff executed the order this morning," Marcus said, tapping his screen.
"Tyler’s former landlord changed the locks at eight-fifteen."
"All of his remaining furniture from the Oak Street apartment was moved to the curb on the sidewalk."
"Because of the rain last night, most of his mattresses and electronics are completely ruined."
"And Melissa?" I asked.
Marcus paused, his expression softening slightly.
"Melissa’s father drove in from Schaumburg with a moving van two hours ago."
"He helped her load her personal clothes and the nursery gifts into his truck."
"According to our building porter who saw them outside the police station, Melissa informed Tyler in the parking lot that she is moving back to her parents’ house permanently."
"She has already retained a family law attorney to file for legal separation and child support."
A heavy, quiet breath left my chest.
I felt no triumph.
I felt no vindictive joy.
I merely felt the vast, clean relief of a man who had finally excised a malignant tumor that had been poisoning his life for three decades.
My phone chimed on the granite kitchen counter.
I walked over and picked it up.
It was an email notification from the commercial search firm on Michigan Avenue.
Subject: Offer of Employment — Senior Vice President of Asset Operations.
Dear Mr. Cole,
The executive committee was thoroughly impressed by your portfolio management background and your independent asset acquisition record.
We are pleased to extend an official offer for the position of Senior Vice President, effective November 1st, with a starting base salary of two hundred and twenty thousand dollars plus performance equity.
I looked at the screen for a long moment.
Three days ago, my family believed I was ruined.
They believed that because my corporate title had been stripped away by an indifferent conglomerate, I was weak, helpless, and ripe for exploitation.
They had never understood that my value was never defined by the business card in my pocket.
It was defined by the discipline I had forged in the dark.
It was defined by every sacrifice I had made while they were busy looking for shortcuts.
Marcus looked over at me, noticing the quiet smile on my face.
"Good news, Jesse?"
"The best news, Marcus," I said, setting the phone down on the counter.
"Send an email to our regional leasing agents."
"Tell them the Lake Geneva cabin will be entering our short-term luxury rental portfolio starting next spring."
"Projected annual gross revenue: seventy-five thousand dollars."
Marcus chuckled, shaking his head in admiration.
"Your father spent twelve years threatening to cut you out of that cabin, Jesse."
"And now he’s going to watch you rent it out on the open market."
"My father forgot the most fundamental law of real estate, Marcus," I said, looking around my peaceful, sunlit apartment.
"What’s that?"
"You never try to evict a man from his own home."
May you like
"Especially when he holds the deed to everything you stand on."
I walked over to the stereo on the bookshelf, turned on a slow jazz record, and listened to the music fill the quiet rooms of 4B.
