Chapter 5 - The Unraveling of Diane Cole
Ethan stood frozen in the middle of the boardroom, clutching the divorce papers like a shield that offered no protection.
"Arthur, this is a private domestic dispute!" Ethan pleaded, turning frantically to his boss. "My wife is having an emotional breakdown! None of this is true!"
Arthur Sterling didn't even look him in the eye.
"Ethan, your corporate email access has already been revoked by IT," Arthur said in a tone of utter disgust. "Security will escort you to your desk. You will put your personal effects into a single cardboard box. If you ever set foot on this property again, you will be arrested for criminal trespassing."
"Arthur! Please! I have the Miller account presentation at two o'clock!"
"The Miller account has been reassigned. You are terminated for gross misconduct, effective immediately," Arthur snapped. "And our corporate legal counsel will be cooperating fully with the State Attorney's office regarding the fraudulent letters you forged on our letterhead."
Two towering private security guards stepped into the room, flanking Ethan.
"Right this way, Mr. Cole," one of them said firmly.
Ethan looked at me, his eyes burning with a mixture of terror and venomous hatred.
"You ruined my life!" he hissed as the guards took his arms. "You think you're so smart? Madison loves me! She's giving me a real family! Something you were always too busy with your stupid makeup company to give me!"
"Then I'm sure Madison will happily support you now that you're unemployed, penniless, and facing prison time," I replied calmly.
Ethan was marched out through the bullpen in full view of seventy of his coworkers.
The entire office was dead silent, watching their arrogant senior director get hauled away in disgrace.
While Victoria returned to her office to coordinate the criminal referrals, I received a frantic alert on my phone.
The smart security system at my Lincoln Park townhouse was pinging my screen repeatedly.
Motion Detected at Front Door.
Multiple Failed Keypad Attempts.
I opened the live video feed.
Diane Cole was standing on my front porch, violently pounding on the solid oak door with her heavy designer umbrella.
"Open this door, you little brat!" Diane was screaming through the microphone, her voice carrying down the quiet, affluent street. "Open this door right now! How dare you change the keycodes on my son's house!"
She had brought two large empty rolling suitcases with her, clearly planning to clear out my jewelry, high-end bags, and electronics while I was away.
I activated the two-way speaker on the doorbell camera.
"Diane," my voice echoed from the porch unit.
Diane startled, looking directly into the camera lens with a sneer.
"Claire! You get back here this instant and let me in! Ethan told me what you did to his accounts! You unlock those credit cards right now! I have a hair appointment and a country club lunch to pay for!"
"Diane, look down at the sidewalk behind you," I said coldly.
She turned around.
A marked Chicago Police Department patrol cruiser was already pulling up to the curb with its lights flashing.
Victoria had dispatched the emergency restraining order directly to the local precinct thirty minutes earlier.
Two officers stepped out of the vehicle and walked up the front steps.
"Diane Cole?" the lead officer asked, holding a clipboard.
Diane puffed up her chest, attempting her usual haughty demeanor.
"Officer, thank heavens you're here! My son's deranged wife has locked me out of our family home and—"
"Ma'am, step away from the door," the officer interrupted firmly. "You have been served with an emergency order of protection. You are prohibited from being within five hundred feet of this residence or its occupants."
"Do you know who I am?" Diane shrieked, waving her umbrella wildly. "My son is a prominent corporate executive! We pay taxes in this city! You cannot tell me to leave!"
"Ma'am, drop the umbrella and put your hands behind your back," the officer commanded, reaching for his handcuffs.
"Don't you touch me! Ethan! Ethan, help me!"
Within seconds, Diane was handcuffed against the hood of the police cruiser, her designer purse falling into the dirty street gutter, spilling her lipstick and compacts across the asphalt.
Neighbors were coming out onto their porches, pulling out their phones and recording the entire spectacle.
Noah opened the second-floor window and looked down at the scene.
I spoke through the doorbell camera one last time.
May you like
"Goodbye, Diane. Make sure to tell the officers that the chicken wasn't worth it."
Diane screamed obscenities into the sky as she was forced into the back of the squad car and driven away toward the district holding cell.
