Chapter 3 - The Eviction
At 11:00 a.m., three black SUVs pulled into the circular driveway of my estate.
According to the security footage I watched from my iPad in the hotel suite, Grant was standing in the kitchen in his bathrobe, trying to frantically call his lawyers, while Tessa was lounging by the pool in one of my silk robes.
Marcus stepped out of the lead vehicle, flanked by four armed, private security contractors and a local sheriff's deputy to enforce the emergency eviction notice.
Grant rushed out the front door, his face purple with rage. “You can’t do this! This is my house! I have marital rights!”
“Actually, sir, you are a tenant-at-will in a property owned by the Mara Sterling Vanguard Trust,” Marcus stated coldly, handing Grant a thick stack of legal documents. “Your tenancy was terminated last night when you introduced an unauthorized occupant and created a hostile environment for the primary beneficiary. You have exactly thirty minutes to vacate the premises before you are arrested for trespassing.”
Tessa came running around the side of the house, clutching the silk robe tightly around her, her face a mask of sheer panic. “Grant? What is happening? They’re telling me to pack my things in garbage bags!”
Grant’s mother and brother, who had happily sat at my dining table and watched me be humiliated the night before, were escorted out the front doors by security, carrying their belongings in plastic totes.
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“Grant, do something!” his mother shrieked, thoroughly embarrassed as the neighbors began to step out onto their porches to watch the spectacle.
But Grant could do nothing. He stood on the manicured lawn of the estate he thought he had conquered, watching his mistress throw her glittering green dress into a black trash bag. The untouchable patriarch had just been rendered completely, utterly homeless in under thirty minutes.
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