Chapter 4 - The Squatters' Rebellion
By seven o'clock Saturday morning, the sun was casting pale gold light across the brick facade of my home in Richmond's historic district. I pulled my SUV into the driveway, Evelyn sitting in the passenger seat beside me. Helen was still at the hospital under observation, safe in the care of licensed professionals.
I expected the house to be empty. Instead, three unfamiliar vehicles were parked along the curb, and loud classical music echoed from the open front windows.
I stepped through the front door. The dining room table, still coated in dried lentil paste and sticky wine stains from the night before, had been hastily pushed against the wall. In the living room, Pamela was sitting on my cream linen sofa in silk pajamas, sipping espresso from my grandmother’s porcelain cups.
"You're back," Pamela said, barely looking up from a magazine. "Good. You can call your bank and restore our cards. Douglas needs to pick up his blood pressure prescriptions, and Reid couldn't even buy gas this morning."
I stood in the foyer, my arms crossed. Behind me, Evelyn stepped inside, holding a thick manila folder.
Pamela’s gaze shifted to Evelyn, and her face darkened instantly. "What is that woman doing in my son's house? Get her out of here before I call the police."
"This is *my* house, Pamela," I said, keeping my tone razor-sharp. "And Evelyn is here as a witness to the adult neglect report we filed with Child and Adult Protective Services two hours ago."
Pamela scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Neglect? Don't be ridiculous. Your mother is senile. She forgets things. She wandered into the kitchen on her own accord."
"She didn't wander," Evelyn interjected, stepping forward. "You took her walker away and put it in the attic because you claimed the rubber wheels were scuffing the hardwood floors. I have your text messages to Reid from October twelfth explicitly stating that."
Reid emerged from the upstairs hallway, his hair disheveled, wearing sweatpants and an old college t-shirt. "Audrey, what is going on down here?"
"I gave you until sunrise to vacate," I said, looking up at the landing. "Why are your bags not packed?"
Tyler and Brooke appeared behind Reid, looking nervous. Brooke crossed her arms defensively. "Audrey, you can't just kick family out onto the street. We have rights. We've been living here for six months."
"You were guests while Tyler looked for work," I replied. "Guests who didn't pay a single cent of rent, utilities, or groceries. And Brooke, those two-thousand-dollar monthly transfers Reid sent to your design firm? Those came from my personal account without my authorization. That's civil conversion, bordering on grand larceny."
Brooke paled, turning quickly to look at Reid. "You told me Audrey signed off on that as an angel investment!"
"Shut up, Brooke!" Reid hissed. He hurried down the stairs, his eyes wide and desperate. He grabbed my wrist, attempting to pull me into the study. "Audrey, please. Stop this right now. We need to talk in private. You don't understand the pressure I've been under."
I ripped my hand out of his grip. "Do not touch me."
"Audrey, I'm your husband!" Reid shouted, his facade crumbling. "You went away for nine months! You left me here to deal with everything! Your mother was demanding, she was constantly depressed, and my family stepped in to support me. You think you can just come back, throw money around, and act like a dictator? Half of everything in this house belongs to me. If you want us out, you'll have to take me to divorce court, and by the time the lawyers are done, I'll own this property!"
A slow, cold smile crossed my face.
"You really should have read the prenuptial agreement before you signed it four years ago, Reid," I said. "Section Twelve clearly states that any act of domestic misconduct, intentional fraud, or criminal neglect committed against an immediate family member completely voids your spousal support claims and revokes any tenancy rights."
The front door opened behind us. Two uniformed Richmond police officers stood on the porch, accompanied by a woman in a dark suit holding a clipboard.
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"Mrs. Audrey Fenwick?" the woman asked, displaying her badge. "I’m Agent Miller from the Virginia Department of Social Services, Adult Protective Division. We're here to execute an emergency temporary protection order."
***
