Chapter 11 - Sunday Afternoon Dinner
Sunday at 3:30 PM, my mother’s colonial home was once again surrounded by cars.
According to Addison’s covert updates—sent via a secure, burner-style messaging app we had set up—the extended family had gathered for a "post-holiday debrief." My aunt Linda, Uncle Marcus, and several cousins were inside, eating leftover turkey and laughing in the dining room.
My mother was presumably seated in her floral recliner, holding court. Kyle and Brandy were likely recounting the "funny story" of how I threw a hysterical fit and fled the house on Thursday.
They were all gathered together under one roof.
Which made the timing of Attorney Marcus Vance’s master plan absolute perfection.
At exactly 3:45 PM, two unmarked black cruisers from the local police department pulled smoothly into my mother’s driveway, blocking Kyle’s truck.
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Simultaneously, a pair of process servers dressed in sharp charcoal suits walked up the brick steps carrying thick manila envelopes.
Inside the house, the festivities came to an abrupt, screeching halt.
