Chapter 7 - The Eviction Blitz
"Hold your position, Mrs. Bennett," Detective Miller instructed over the line, his tone instantly professional and urgent. "Do not confront her. If she has stolen property of that value and left written documentation demanding real estate equity in exchange for its return, that is felony extortion under CRS 18-3-207, alongside Class 4 felony theft. I am dispatching two uniformed units and an investigator to your location. When is this dinner scheduled?"
"Seven o'clock," I replied. "The extended family will be here. My attorney, Marcus Vance, is arriving at 6:45 PM with the civil eviction enforcement team."
"Perfect," Miller said. "Let them assemble. Let everybody get comfortable. We will stage outside the building at 7:10 PM. The moment you text me the confirmation that the stolen goods are acknowledged, we move in."
"Understood."
I hung up, folded Patricia’s handwritten confession, slid it into the breast pocket of my blazer, and walked out into the living room.
By 6:30 PM, the guests began to arrive.
Aunt Brenda was the first through the door—a towering, stern woman with a helmet of stiff gray hair, wearing a heavy wool coat and an expression of perpetual moral disapproval. Behind her trailed Uncle Frank, a portly, red-faced man who smelled strongly of cheap aftershave and cigar smoke, accompanied by two of Nathan’s cousins.
"Emily," Aunt Brenda announced, offering me a cheek that felt like cold parchment. "Patricia told us about the... *difficulties* you’ve been having. We felt it was our Christian obligation to come and help guide this family back to biblical harmony."
"Thank you for coming, Brenda," I said with exquisite, icy politeness. "Your presence tonight is going to ensure absolute clarity."
Nathan scurried over, pouring glasses of expensive Cabernet I had purchased for a corporate client last Christmas. Tyler stood by the window, looking uncomfortable in his dress shirt, while Patricia beamed like a triumphant monarch holding court.
"Come, everyone! Sit, sit!" Patricia orchestrated, directing Aunt Brenda and Uncle Frank to the prime seats at the head of the dining table. "Emily, dear, why don't you sit next to Nathan? We have so much to discuss before the chicken gets cold."
I didn't sit down. I stood at the opposite end of the long dining table, resting my hands lightly on the mahogany surface.
"Before we eat," Aunt Brenda began, clearing her throat with theatrical gravity, "Frank and I want to say a few words about the sanctity of the marital covenant. Emily, when a woman marries a man, she marries his family. The Bible tells us in Genesis that the two shall become one flesh. That means one heart, one spirit, and *one purse*."
"Amen," Patricia chimed in, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. "Tell her, Brenda."
"We understand that Tyler had some youthful indiscretions with finances," Aunt Brenda continued, glaring down her nose at me. "And we understand that Nathan, being the noble, protective older brother that he is, stepped in the gap. For you to threaten this family with eviction—to call the law on your own flesh and blood over worldly possessions—is a disgrace to your marriage, Emily."
Uncle Frank grunted in agreement, cutting into a warm roll. "A man cannot be the head of his household if his wife holds a deed over his head like a whip, young lady. Nathan needs his name on that property title. It’s about dignity. If you transfer the fifty percent share tonight, Frank and I are willing to loan Nathan ten thousand dollars to help clear that nasty business with Apex Capital. But you must show good faith."
Nathan looked at me, his eyes wide with desperate hope. He reached out to take my hand across the table. "Emily... please. Let’s just fix this. We can be a real family."
I pulled my hand back, stepping away from the table.
"Is that the consensus of the Bennett family?" I asked, looking around the room at the seven faces staring back at me. "I sign over half of my eight-hundred-thousand-dollar condo, take on Nathan’s fraudulent debt, and allow Patricia and Tyler to live here rent-free forever?"
"It’s not rent-free, dear," Patricia said, her smile turning razor-thin. "I do the cooking. I manage the home. And besides... you wouldn't want anything to happen to your mother’s lovely things, would you?"
The room went dead silent.
Aunt Brenda blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Patricia’s tone.
"What did you just say, Patricia?" I asked, pulling out my phone and tapping the screen twice to send the pre-arranged signal to Detective Miller.
Patricia leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with utter, unrestrained arrogance. She truly believed she had won. Surrounded by her pious relatives, with Nathan on her side, she felt invincible.
"I said, accidents happen in big families, Emily," Patricia purred, tapping her fingernails against her wine glass. "Heirlooms get lost. Platinum rings slip down garbage disposals. Antique watches get sold at estate sales for twenty dollars. But if we are a *real* family, with Nathan on the deed... well, lost things have a funny way of turning up safe and sound."
"You stole my mother’s engagement ring," I said clearly, projecting my voice so the hidden cloud cameras and the open phone line in my pocket picked up every syllable. "You broke into my safe, took forty-five thousand dollars worth of jewelry, and you are holding it hostage until I sign this condo over to your son."
"Don't be so dramatic, Emily!" Patricia scoffed, rolling her eyes toward Aunt Brenda. "It’s in a safe deposit box downtown! It’s collateral! A mother protects her boys!"
At that exact moment, the front door buzzer sounded.
Three sharp, authoritative chimes.
Nathan jumped. "Who is that? Did you order food?"
I walked over to the wall monitor, pressed the intercom release, and said two words:
May you like
"Come up."
***