Chapter 3 - The Eviction Notice
Uncle Thomas looked as if he had been struck by lightning. He looked at Daniel, then at Patricia, then back at me. “Daniel... is Vanguard... her family's company?”
Daniel didn't answer. He couldn’t. The papers, the board records, the undeniable digital audit—it was all ironclad.
Patricia, however, refused to yield. In her narcissistic mind, reality was whatever she decided it was. “It doesn’t matter who owns the company! You’re his wife! Everything you have belongs to him! Marriage is fifty-fifty! Danny, call the police right now and have her escorted out! This is your house!”
“Actually,” I said, picking up a Manila folder I had tucked beneath the recipe stand earlier that afternoon, “let’s talk about the house.”
I opened the folder and pulled out the deed, placing it flat on the marble counter right beside Daniel’s shaking hands.
“Single-family residential property, 4,200 square feet,” I read. “Purchased in July 2021. Purchased under the Holloway Family Living Trust. Sole beneficiary: Claire Holloway. Down payment: $450,000, wired directly from my personal trust account. Monthly mortgage, property taxes, insurance, and HOA dues: paid automatically every month from my private account at Chase Bank.”
I looked at Daniel. “How much have you contributed to this house in three years, Daniel? Go ahead, tell your family. Show Uncle Thomas your contribution.”
Daniel covered his face with his hands. “Claire... please. Not here. Not in front of everyone.”
“Tell them!” I shouted, the fire finally breaking through my composed exterior. “Tell them how you haven’t paid a single electric bill! Tell them how you told your mother that you bought this house in cash to prove you were better than your cousins! Tell her!”
Aunt Susan looked horrified. She turned on Patricia. “Patricia! You told us Danny bought this mansion as an anniversary gift for the family! You had us bring expensive housewarming gifts! You bragged at church that Danny was funding Uncle Robert’s nursing home!”
“He was going to!” Patricia shrieked, her face turning an ugly shade of magenta. “Danny is a good boy! She tricked him! She manipulated him! Danny, stand up and be a man! Throw her out!”
“He can’t throw me out of my own home, Patricia,” I said. “In fact, the reverse is happening right now.”
At that exact moment, two squad cars pulled up behind the guests' SUVs in the circular driveway. The flashing red and blue lights illuminated the kitchen windows, casting sharp, rhythmic shadows against the white cabinets.
Brittany gasped. “The police? You called the cops on your own family?”
“I called the police twenty minutes ago,” I said calmly, “when Patricia slapped me across the face.”
Patricia’s hand flew to her throat. “I did no such thing! You threw food at me! Danny, tell them she assaulted me!”
Daniel looked up. His eyes were wide with terror. “Claire... don’t do this. If I get an assault charge attached to my name with the embezzlement... my life is over. I’ll never work in finance again.”
“You will never work in finance again regardless,” I said.
The front doorbell chimed twice. I walked past the frozen, horrified relatives, opened the door, and welcomed two uniformed officers inside.
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“Good evening, officers,” I said, pointing toward the kitchen. “Thank you for coming. My name is Claire Holloway. I own this property. I have an assault to report, and I need twenty trespassers removed from my residence immediately.”
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