Chapter 4 - The Reckoning at the GateBack at the Scottsdale estate, the afternoon heat was oppressive, hovering near one hundred degrees.
Lorraine and Brooke were standing beside the resort-style pool, wearing designer sunglasses, holding empty champagne glasses, furiously shouting into their smartphones.
When my pickup truck pulled through the iron front gates, followed closely by two blacked-out security vans and a locksmith vehicle, Lorraine marched toward the driveway, her face flushed red with rage.
“Ethan!” Lorraine shrieked, waving her manicured hands in the air as I stepped out of the truck. “What is the meaning of this?! My American Express card was just declined at the salon! And Brooke’s debit card says 'Account Frozen'!”
Brooke stormed out behind her, holding her phone. “Ethan! Where is my white SUV?! Why did you take my car to Phoenix?!”
I stood on the stone driveway, my hands resting calmly in my pockets, looking at the two women who had tormented my wife for six months.
“It isn't your SUV, Brooke,” I said quietly, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet courtyard. “The purchase contract was funded entirely by my primary checking account. The vehicle title has been transferred back to my name.”
Brooke gasped, her jaw dropping in utter shock. “You... you stole my car?!”
“I didn't steal anything,” I replied smoothly. “I simply reclaimed my property.”
Lorraine stepped up to me, her eyes flashing with aristocratic fury, pointing an accusing finger inches from my nose. “You ungrateful little brat! After everything I did for you! After managing your life while you were playing in the dirt in New Mexico! You freeze my accounts?! Unfreeze them this instant or I will disown you!”
“You can’t disown me, Mother,” I said, stepping closer, looking down into her panicked eyes. “Because as of nine o'clock this morning, you are no longer managing a single penny of my money. The financial power of attorney has been legally revoked.”
Before Lorraine could scream, Samuel Sterling stepped out of the black van, accompanied by four towering, uniformed security guards and two locksmiths carrying heavy toolboxes.
Samuel handed a thick stack of court orders directly to Lorraine.
“Lorraine Vance and Brooke Vance,” Samuel announced firmly. “You are hereby served with an emergency court order of total eviction from this property. You have thirty minutes to collect your personal clothing and vacate the premises.”
“Eviction?!” Brooke shrieked, backing away. “This is our house! My mother’s name is on the lease!”
“Your mother signed a master lease addendum three years ago that was contingent on Ethan’s primary employment,” Samuel corrected ruthlessly. “Which has been legally terminated. Furthermore, a temporary restraining order has been issued barring both of you from coming within five hundred feet of Ethan Vance or Natalie Vance.”
The two locksmiths immediately walked past them toward the front entrance, pulling out power tools to begin drilling out the door locks.
Lorraine stared at the papers, her hands trembling violently, her face draining of all color.
“Ethan...” Lorraine stammered, her voice suddenly dropping into a pathetic, desperate whine as she reached out to grab my sleeve. “Ethan, darling... please! You can’t do this to your own mother! Where are we supposed to go?! We have no cash! We have nowhere to sleep!”
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I pulled my arm back from her touch, looking at her with cold, unyielding disgust.
“There’s a lovely storage room downstairs behind the wine cellar,” I whispered, every word laced with lethal irony. “It has a narrow cot, a small fan, and a window painted shut. You can stay there... if you sell your hair first.”
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