Chapter 4 - The Eviction at Sunset
Two hours later, the temperature had dropped sharply, casting a damp chill over the rolling lawns of Oakridge Manor.
I sat in the passenger seat of Chloe’s Jeep parked just outside the main estate gates, watching the drama unfold through the wrought-iron bars. Two unmarked black sedans had just pulled up the long gravel drive, flanked by a uniform-clad county sheriff’s deputy and Richard Vance, my attorney.
They weren't heading for the main house. They were marching straight toward the north carriage house—the charming, ivy-covered stone cottage where Linda Carter had lived like a queen for the past four years, completely rent-free, courtesy of my grandfather’s generosity.
Through my binoculars, I watched the front door of the carriage house fly open.
Linda appeared on the porch, wrapped in an expensive cashmere shawl I had bought her for Mother’s Day, her face twisted in an ugly mask of indignation. She was pointing a finger angrily at Richard, her mouth moving rapidly as she shouted over the wind.
Even from fifty yards away, I could imagine the screeching tone of her voice. ‘Do you know who I am? My son owns this estate! I’ll have your license revoked!’
Richard didn't flinch. He simply reached into a leather folio, pulled out a thick packet of stapled documents, and handed them directly to her.
Then he pointed toward the parking area.
Behind the sedans, a commercial towing truck had just backed up, its amber hazard lights flashing rhythmically against the stone walls. The driver hopped out, unclipped a set of chains, and walked straight toward the pristine white BMW parked in Linda’s private carport—the very vehicle Daniel drove, which was registered under the corporate entity I had just dissolved.
Linda shrieked—a sound so high-pitched I could hear a faint echo of it even through our closed car windows. She dropped the legal papers, lunged toward the tow truck driver, and tried to physically block him from attaching the winch to the BMW’s front axle.
The sheriff’s deputy stepped forward, gently taking Linda by the elbow and guiding her back onto the gravel path while the tow truck operator efficiently hoisted the luxury sedan off the ground.
My phone buzzed. It was a text message from Richard:
“Carriage house served. Notice to vacate executed under Section 4 of the Trust Deed. Vehicle impounded for corporate liquidation. Shall we proceed to the main house?”
I stared at the glowing screen, my thumb hovering over the keypad.
Daniel was inside the main house right now, standing at the floor-to-ceiling bay windows in the master study, watching his mother’s empire crumble in real-time. He didn't need a lawyer to tell him what was happening anymore. He needed a reality check.
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I typed my reply to Richard:
“Hold off on the main house for tonight. Let them spend one night realizing whose roof they’re actually standing under. Tomorrow morning, we change the locks.”
