Chapter 6 - The Empty Closet
By two o'clock on Sunday afternoon, Chloe had used her own personal credit card to pay the hotel bill.
The ride back across the city was completely silent.
The adoration that had glowed in Chloe’s eyes the previous evening had vanished, replaced by an icy, frantic tension.
"You said she was weak," Chloe said, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white.
"You told me she was an insecure housewife who would beg you to stay on her knees."
"Shut up, Chloe," Lucas growled from the passenger seat, his eyes fixed on his cracked phone screen.
"She didn't do this. That old witch, my mother, must have called someone."
"I don't care who called!" Chloe shouted, swerving around a delivery truck. "My name is on that team roster!"
"If corporate compliance starts digging into your accounts, they are going to review my promotion too!"
"You promised me this transition would be clean!"
"It will be clean!" Lucas roared back, slamming his fist against the dashboard. "We're going back to the house right now."
"I have twenty thousand dollars worth of designer suits, watches, and personal electronics in that master closet."
"I will sell the Rolexes today if I have to."
"She cannot lock me out of my own primary residence without an eviction notice."
When Chloe pulled the car up to the front gate of our cul-de-sac, Lucas stormed out before the vehicle came to a complete halt.
He marched up the flagstone walkway, his jaw set, his fists clenched, ready to break the door down if he had to.
He reached into his pocket, grabbed his brass house key, and shoved it into the deadbolt.
The key wouldn't turn.
It didn't even slide halfway into the cylinder.
The brass lock had been replaced with a heavy-duty, smart digital lock system glowing with a quiet blue keypad.
Lucas rattled the handle furiously, pounding his shoulder against the oak frame.
"Clarissa!" he screamed, his voice carrying across the quiet suburban street.
"Open this damn door right now!"
"Open the door or I am calling the police to break it down!"
A side window on the second floor slid open.
Gertrude peered down, holding a cup of tea, her face as still as granite.
"Lower your voice, Lucas," she said calmly. "The neighbors are trying to enjoy their Sunday."
"Tell Clarissa to open this door!" he raged, looking up like a feral dog. "I came for my belongings!"
"Your belongings are already accounted for, my boy," Gertrude said.
She pointed toward the side yard near the garage.
Lucas spun around, his chest heaving.
Sitting next to the large green municipal recycling bins were six black heavy-duty trash bags, neatly tied at the top with yellow drawstrings.
Taped to the front of the first bag was a printed copy of the San Diego County temporary restraining order and trespass warning.
Lucas sprinted over, dropping to his knees on the concrete, and tore open the first plastic bag with his bare hands.
Inside were his casual t-shirts, his gym sneakers, his socks, and his collegiate trophies.
He tore open the second bag.
His custom Italian dress shirts were shoved haphazardly inside, wrinkled and crushed against his running shoes.
He tore open the third bag, searching frantically for his velvet watch boxes.
The watch boxes were there, but when he popped the lids open, they were completely empty.
A typed note lay inside the top drawer of the jewelry case:
All luxury timepieces, cuff links, and high-value accessories purchased after January 2020 have been surrendered to Marcus Vance, Legal Escrow Officer, to offset the $15,000 unauthorized bank withdrawal.
Lucas let out a guttural howl of rage that echoed off the neighboring stucco walls.
Chloe stood by her open car door, watching him rummage through trash bags on the pavement.
She didn't step forward to help him.
May you like
She didn't offer a comforting word.
She slowly stepped back into the driver's seat, pulled the door closed, and locked it from the inside.
