Chapter 6 - The Eviction Notice
Three days after the press conference, the autumn sun shone bright and cold over the stone facade of the Fayetteville estate.
A large yellow moving van was parked in the circular driveway, flanked by two sheriff’s deputy vehicles.
Evelyn Sullivan stood in the grand foyer surrounded by cardboard boxes, her hair messy, wearing an old sweater, as two uniformed deputies oversaw the inventory of the house.
Because the house was legally owned by the corporate entity Sullivan Properties LLC—of which I was now the sole surviving legal director following the emergency board vote—an expedited eviction notice had been issued by the civil court.
The heavy front door opened, and I stepped inside, accompanied by a court-appointed property assessor.
Evelyn spun around, her eyes hollow, dark circles ringed beneath her red eyelids. "You're throwing your own mother out onto the street?!"
"You have two hours to clear your personal clothing and items, Evelyn," I said flatly, keeping my hands resting calmly behind my back. "The house is being listed on the commercial market tomorrow morning. Every dollar from the sale will go directly into an untouchable trust fund for Nora and my unborn son."
"You monster!" Evelyn wept hysterically, clutching a framed porcelain vase to her chest. "I gave you everything! I raised you!"
"You raised Ryan to be a thief, and you tried to break my wife," I corrected her coldly. "You have a small retirement account that my father left you in his private will—enough to rent a modest two-bedroom apartment in town. That is all you have left."
"Ryan is facing ten years in prison, Adrian!" Evelyn screamed, dropping her hands in despair. "He’s fragile! He won't survive a state facility! You have to drop the charges!"
"Ryan made his choice when he stole nearly half a million dollars and recorded my wife being tormented," I said, stepping closer to her. "He will serve his sentence, Evelyn. And you will spend the rest of your life reflecting on what your cruelty cost you."
The deputy stepped forward, pointing at his watch. "Ma'am, time is running out. Please load your personal bags into the moving van."
May you like
Evelyn looked around the grand marble foyer—the crystal chandeliers, the gilded mirrors, the luxury she had used as a whip against Nora—and realized with horrifying clarity that it was all gone.
She picked up her two small suitcases, kept her head down to avoid the gaze of the deputies, and shuffled out the front door into the cold morning air.
