Chapter 4 - The Eviction Notice
While Daniel was having a meltdown in a corporate lobby, Margaret was enjoying a luxurious morning at the Hawthorne estate.
She was hosting a mimosa brunch for her country club friends on the very terrace where she had nearly killed my son less than twenty-four hours prior. She was, undoubtedly, spinning a dramatic tale about how she had finally driven the "freeloader wife" away, protecting her brilliant son's assets.
I knew this because my legal team was already pulling up the driveway.
Arthur Sterling didn't send junior associates for this job. He went himself, accompanied by two armed private security contractors and a local sheriff's deputy.
Margaret was mid-sip of her champagne when Arthur’s sleek town car crunched onto the gravel. She stood up, smoothing her silk blouse, a haughty smile forming on her lips. She assumed it was Daniel, coming to grovel to her.
"Excuse me, this is private property," Margaret barked as Arthur approached, flanked by the serious-looking men. "Deliveries go to the rear entrance."
"Margaret Hawthorne?" Arthur asked, his voice booming over the chatter of the ladies on the terrace.
"Yes. And you are?"
"Arthur Sterling, legal counsel for Vanguard Holdings," he said, pulling a laminated document from his briefcase. "I am here to serve you with an immediate notice of eviction."
Margaret laughed, a shrill, grating sound. Her friends chuckled nervously. "Eviction? You must be senile, old man. This estate has been in the Hawthorne family for five generations. My son owns it."
"Your son owned it until four years ago when the bank foreclosed on it due to seventy million dollars in unpaid gambling debts left by your late husband," Arthur corrected her loudly. The gossip-hungry friends immediately fell dead silent.
Margaret’s face flushed a deep, ugly purple. "How dare you speak of my husband—"
"The estate was purchased at auction by Vanguard Holdings," Arthur continued, ignoring her outrage. "Vanguard has been leasing it to your son for one dollar a month out of the generosity of its CEO. However, that lease was terminated last night at 9:15 PM."
"Who is this CEO?!" Margaret screeched, dropping her champagne flute. The glass shattered on the marble, right where Noah’s EpiPen had laid. "I will call them right now! Daniel is friends with everyone in high society!"
Arthur smiled. It was a terrifying, predatory smile.
"The CEO is your daughter-in-law, Elena Vance. The woman you chased off this property last night."
Margaret froze. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish suffocating on dry land. "Elena? That mousey little girl? Impossible. She has nothing! She drives my son's car!"
"She drives her own car, Margaret. And she owns the roof over your head. Or, rather, she used to." Arthur handed the paperwork to the sheriff, who stepped forward.
"Ma'am, you have four hours to vacate the premises," the sheriff said politely but firmly. "You may take personal clothing and family heirlooms. All furniture, art, and vehicles remain on the property as they are owned by the holding company."
Margaret looked around at her friends. The women she had spent decades trying to impress were now looking at her with a mixture of shock and poorly concealed delight. High society loved nothing more than a spectacular fall from grace.
"Four hours?!" Margaret sobbed, the reality finally piercing her delusion. "Where am I supposed to go?"
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"Perhaps you can move in with your son," Arthur suggested smoothly, turning to walk away. "Though I understand he’s currently unemployed and his credit cards have been frozen. Have a pleasant afternoon, ladies."
Margaret collapsed into a patio chair, burying her face in her hands. The queen of the Hawthorne estate was finally dethroned, and I hadn't even needed to raise my voice.
