Chapter 7 - The Eviction of the Parasites
The silver pickup truck was parked in the driveway when our car pulled up behind it.
I wasn't alone. I had hired two professional movers and requested a civil standby from the local police department—a precautionary measure requested by my attorney given Derek’s volatile temper.
Officer Miller, a towering county deputy with a calm, weathered face, stepped out of his cruiser first, followed by my two burly movers. I stepped out of my sedan, my sunglasses hiding the exhaustion in my eyes, and marched straight up the front steps of the house I had called home for a decade.
I didn't knock. I reached into my purse, pulled out my master key, and unlocked the front door.
The interior of the house was a disaster zone. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink. Takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs from the second floor a second later, and Caleb appeared in the hallway, his face flushed with panicked rage.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Caleb roared, marching toward the entryway. He stopped short when he saw Officer Miller standing directly behind me in uniform. Caleb’s expression flickered from anger to confusion. "Officer? What is the meaning of this? This is private property!"
"Mr. Harrison?" Officer Miller asked, pulling a folded legal document from his breast pocket. "Caleb Harrison?"
"Yes! What is this?"
"You've been served with an emergency asset freeze, a temporary restraining order regarding marital property interference, and a court-mandated notice of immediate asset surrender," Officer Miller recited smoothly, handing the papers directly into Caleb’s chest.
Caleb looked down at the papers, his face draining of color. "This... this is a mistake. My accounts are frozen? What do you mean my accounts are frozen?"
"It means you’re broke, Caleb," I said, stepping past him into the foyer.
Caleb whipped his head around, his eyes locking onto mine with sheer disbelief. "You did this? You locked our accounts? Over a teenage daughter throwing a tantrum?!"
"She didn't throw a tantrum, Caleb. She was evicted by a liar who stole her college fund," I said, my voice cutting through the foyer like a razor blade.
Before Caleb could formulate another furious retort, Derek and Paige came pounding up the basement stairs, attracted by the commotion.
"Dad? What's going on? The Wi-Fi just cut out and my debit card was declined at the grocery store!" Derek demanded, walking into the hallway with a scowl on his face.
"Your debit card is declined because your father’s fraudulent business accounts have been seized by the state," I said, turning to face them.
Paige gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Wait—what? Seized? Where are we supposed to live?"
"Not here," I replied coldly.
I signaled to the two movers standing behind Officer Miller. They stepped past us into the living room and headed straight down the basement stairs.
"Hey! What are they doing?!" Derek shouted, lunging forward as though to block the basement door.
Officer Miller stepped into his path, placing a heavy hand on his baton belt. "Step back, son. Do not interfere with court-mandated property clearing."
"You can't do this!" Derek yelled, his face turning bright red as he looked wildly between his father and me. "Dad! Tell them they can't do this! This is our home!"
Caleb stood frozen in the center of the hallway, the legal papers shaking slightly in his grip. He looked at Derek, then at me, and finally realized the terrifying magnitude of what he had destroyed.
"Honey," Caleb whispered, his voice cracking with a pathetic, desperate plea as he took a step toward me. "Let's... let's talk about this. We can fix this. You don't need to blow up our entire marriage over a misunderstanding—"
"The only misunderstanding you had, Caleb, was believing you could lie to me forever," I said, pulling my wedding ring off my finger.
May you like
I didn't throw it at him. I walked over, placed it gently on the entryway table beside his keys, and looked him dead in the eye.
"You have twenty-four hours to pack your son and his girlfriend out of this house," I said quietly. "Because tomorrow morning, the locks are changing, and the "For Sale" sign goes up on the front lawn."
