Chapter 8 - The Eviction & Locks Changed
By 9:00 PM, I was back at the apartment.
I didn't waste a single second weeping. I pulled four heavy-duty black contractor trash bags from under the sink, walked into the spare room, and began clearing out everything that belonged to Zachary.
His gaming console, his monitors, his clothes, his shoes, his video game collection, his dry-cleaned suits—everything went into the bags or onto the hallway floor.
At 9:45 PM, a local locksmith I had called on the drive home arrived at the door. For $250, he drilled out the old deadbolts and installed brand-new, high-security smart locks on the front door.
While he worked, I logged into my landlord's tenant portal. I submitted an emergency lease modification request, attaching the proof of Zachary’s financial fraud, and requested his name be immediately removed from the lease agreement. Since I was the sole income earner who had passed the original credit check and paid every monthly rent payment from my individual bank account, the property manager approved the request via email within thirty minutes.
At 10:30 PM, the elevator doors at the end of the hall opened with a chime.
Zachary rushed down the corridor, flanked by a frantic, tear-stained Evelyn. He reached for the doorknob, but his key wouldn't even fit into the new lock cylinder.
"Jenna!" he screamed, pounding his fist against the heavy door. "Open this door right now! This is my apartment!"
I opened the door six inches, keeping the heavy security latch engaged.
"It's not your apartment anymore, Zachary," I said calmly through the gap. "Your name has been removed from the lease. You are officially no longer a tenant here."
"You can't do that!" Evelyn shrieked from behind him, her eyes red and puffy. "You're his wife! You can't throw him out into the street in the middle of the night! Where is he supposed to go?!"
"He can go wherever his $486 worth of smoked salmon and bourbon takes him, Evelyn," I replied coldly. "His mother's house seems like a great option. After all, family helps family, right?"
I pointed down to the five black trash bags and two suitcases lined up against the hallway wall outside the door.
"There are all of your clothes, your electronics, and your personal items," I told Zachary. "Take them and leave. If you try to break in or harass me, the building security guards downstairs have already been instructed to call the police and issue a formal trespass notice."
"Jenna, please!" Zachary sobbed, pressing his face against the door frame. "I'm sorry! I'll get a job! I'll work at a grocery store! I'll do whatever you want! Just don't divorce me!"
"I gave you six months to be a partner, Zachary," I said, looking into his eyes through the narrow crack. "You chose to be a parasite. We are done."
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I shut the door and turned the electronic deadbolt. The sharp, heavy CLICK echoed through the foyer.
Outside, Zachary began screaming and beating against the door, while Evelyn shouted threats about calling lawyers. I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a tall glass of ice water, and watched through the smart doorbell app as building security arrived three minutes later, escorting both of them and their trash bags down the hall toward the elevator.
