Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Golden Son
Chaos erupted in my dining room.
Sarah started hyperventilating, fanning herself with a napkin.
“Police? You can't call the police on your own husband!” she shrieked.
“Watch me,” I replied.
Mark jumped up and grabbed Michael by the collar.
“You idiot! You said she wouldn't notice!”
“You said she had so much money she didn't even check the accounts!”
Michael shoved his brother off.
“Shut up, Mark! You're the one who begged me for the money!”
Clara burst into tears, grabbing little Tyler and pulling him away from the table.
“You used us!” she screamed at her husband and mother-in-law.
“You dragged us into a felony!”
I sat there, watching the family tear itself apart.
It was a masterpiece of destruction.
And they had built it themselves.
Red and blue lights suddenly flashed through the dining room windows.
The police had arrived.
David, my lawyer, walked through the front door right behind the officers.
“Evelyn,” David nodded at me.
“Officers, the men you are looking for are Michael and Mark.”
The police stepped into the dining room.
“Michael and Mark? We have warrants for your arrest.”
“Charges include grand theft, wire fraud, and forgery.”
Michael fell to his knees.
Literally fell to his knees.
“Evelyn, please! Think of Olivia!”
“She needs her father!”
I walked over to him and looked down.
“Olivia needs a protector.”
“You proved you are just a parasite.”
The officers placed him in handcuffs.
Mark didn't fight back; he just stared blankly at the wall as they cuffed him.
Sarah grabbed the officer's arm.
“You can't take my boys! They didn't do anything wrong!”
“She's a rich, vindictive woman! She framed them!”
The officer gently pushed her away.
“Ma'am, step back or you'll be arrested for interfering.”
As they dragged Michael out the door, he looked back at me one last time.
There was no anger left. Only complete, utter defeat.
David handed me a pen.
“The divorce papers,” he said.
“I added an emergency custody order.”
“He won't be allowed near Olivia without supervision.”
I signed my name on the dotted line.
My signature.
May you like
The real one this time.
“Serve him in his holding cell,” I told David.
