Chapter 4 - Breakfast In The Stolen Bedroom
At 8:15 a.m. inside the house on Maple Street, the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls and expensive dark-roast coffee filled the kitchen.
Denise Mercer hummed a cheerful pop tune as she buttered a ceramic plate.
She was wearing a plush velour robe, feeling a level of vindication she hadn't experienced in years.
Upstairs on the second floor, Cody was already settled into Emma’s corner bedroom.
Emma’s handcrafted cedar desk, where she spent hours studying for her AP chemistry exams, was covered in Cody’s dirty soda cans and half-eaten donuts.
Emma’s framed state-championship track ribbons had been torn off the bulletin board and tossed into the closet corner to make room for Cody’s gaming posters.
Cody sat back in Emma’s ergonomic desk chair, laughing loudly through Emma’s headset into his microphone as he played an online multiplayer match.
Richard walked into the kitchen wearing his favorite flannel shirt and canvas trousers.
He picked up the newspaper from the granite countertop and poured himself a mug of coffee.
“Did Daniel call you this morning?” Richard asked, sitting down at the breakfast nook.
Denise let out a dismissive bark of laughter.
“He sent some ridiculous, melodramatic threat in the family chat in the middle of the night.”
“You know how Daniel is—always talking like he’s a corporate CEO giving a press conference.”
“He thinks because he went to college and made some money that he can dictate how we run our family.”
Richard took a slow sip, nodding in agreement.
“The boy has forgotten his roots,” Richard said grimly.
“Our family has lived in this town for four generations.”
“I built the tool and die company with my bare hands while he sat in air-conditioned libraries.”
“He needs to understand that Emma is our granddaughter, and she needs to learn respect.”
“Cody is the oldest grandson.”
“He carries the Mercer name into the future.”
“Giving him that room was the right thing to do.”
Denise smiled, setting a warm pastry in front of her father.
“Cody already feels so much better, Dad.”
“He said the natural light in that corner room helps his focus.”
“Emma was just being dramatic.”
“Daniel will probably put her up at some fancy hotel for two days, bring her home, and apologize to us for her attitude.”
“He knows better than to challenge you.”
Upstairs, the heavy bass of Cody’s video game suddenly died out.
“Hey, Mom!” Cody shouted down the stairwell.
“The Wi-Fi just cut out!”
Denise frowned, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Just reset the router in the hallway, honey.”
“I did!” Cody yelled back, clumping down the stairs in his sweatpants.
“The router is completely dead.”
“The power light is off, and my phone says the network was disconnected by the administrator.”
Before Denise could reply, a loud, thunderous knock rattled the front door.
It wasn't the polite knock of a package delivery driver.
It was the authoritative, heavy, three-strike pound of official business.
Richard scowled, setting his coffee mug down on the saucer.
“Who the hell is pounding on my door at eight in the morning?”
He strode through the foyer, unlocked the deadbolt he had thrown against his granddaughter seven hours earlier, and pulled the door open.
Standing on the porch were two uniformed sheriff’s deputies, flanked by a tall man in an immaculate charcoal suit holding a thick stack of blue-backed legal documents.
Beyond them, parked along the curb, was a flatbed tow truck with flashing amber lights, already backing up toward Denise’s Mercedes.
Richard’s face tightened with irritation.
“Can I help you, officers?”
The man in the charcoal suit stepped forward, pulling a gold-embossed business card from his pocket.
“Richard Mercer?”
“I am Richard Mercer.”
“My name is Nathan Hayes, senior process server with Vance & Associates, representing Daniel Mercer and Mercer Capital Holdings LLC.”
The server handed a three-inch-thick legal binder directly into Richard’s hands.
“You are hereby served with an immediate Notice of Revocation of Conditional Occupancy and an Emergency 48-Hour Eviction Summons.”
Richard froze, looking down at the legal seal.
“What nonsense is this?” Richard sputtered.
“This is my home!”
The process server looked him straight in the eyes without a trace of emotion.
May you like
“It was your home, Mr. Mercer, until 12:43 a.m. last night.”
“You are now legally classified as an unlawful trespasser.”
