Chapter 3 - The Eviction and the Exposure
The iron gates of the estate swung open automatically as my sedan approached; Daniel hadn't realized that the security system was tied to my master account, not his. I pulled into the driveway just behind two black police cruisers and a plainclothes process server.
Inside the house, Evelyn was holding court in the formal living room. I could hear the high-pitched, artificial laughter of her friends echoing through the hallway. I unlocked the front door and pushed it open, flanked by two uniformed police officers and Jessica.
The laughter died instantly. Evelyn, holding a crystal flute of my vintage champagne, froze. Her friends stared at us, their eyes darting from the police officers to me.
“What is the meaning of this?” Evelyn demanded, her voice shrill, desperately trying to maintain her aristocratic persona. “Maya, how dare you bring the police into my home! Daniel locked you out!”
“Evelyn,” I said calmly, stepping fully into the room and removing my sunglasses so everyone could see the purple bruise blooming on my cheek. “This is not your home. It has never been your home.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed, though her hand trembled slightly. “My son built this house.”
Jessica stepped forward, holding a thick stack of legal documents. “Actually, ma'am, this estate is owned entirely by Sterling Holdings LLC, which is solely owned by Maya. Your son’s name is not on the deed, the mortgage, or the property taxes. You are currently trespassing on private property.”
Evelyn’s face drained of all color. She looked at her friends, who were now suddenly very interested in the floor. “That’s a lie. Daniel pays for everything! He pays for my life!”
“No, Evelyn,” I replied softly, letting the absolute humiliation wash over her. “I pay for your life. That ten thousand dollars a month you receive? It comes from my trust fund. Daniel just slapped his name on the wire transfer. And as of ten minutes ago, that allowance is permanently canceled. I hope you saved up.”
Before Evelyn could hyperventilate, the front door opened again. Daniel strolled in, looking arrogant and annoyed. He had likely been called by security when the police arrived. “What the hell is going on here?” he shouted. “Maya, what did you do?”
One of the police officers immediately stepped between Daniel and me, resting his hand on his utility belt. “Daniel Mercer? Sir, step back. You are in violation of an emergency protective order.”
“Protective order? For what?” Daniel scoffed, looking at his mother.
The officer pulled out a tablet. “We have verified video evidence of you committing felony domestic battery against your wife in this foyer yesterday afternoon. Because of this protective order, you are legally required to vacate these premises immediately. You have ten minutes to pack one bag of personal essentials. Everything else remains.”
Daniel’s arrogance shattered into a million pieces. The reality of the hidden camera came crashing down on him. “Maya, please,” he stammered, his voice dropping into a pathetic, begging register. “We can talk about this. Don't do this in front of everyone.”
“You slapped me in front of everyone, Daniel,” I reminded him, my voice colder than ice. “You wanted an audience. Well, you have one.”
The process server stepped forward and slapped a thick envelope directly onto Daniel’s chest. “You’ve also been served. Divorce proceedings, and a civil suit for financial fraud and embezzlement.”
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Evelyn collapsed onto the velvet sofa, sobbing hysterically as her friends awkwardly grabbed their purses and practically sprinted for the door, eager to escape the radioactive fallout of the Mercer family’s destruction.
“Ten minutes, Daniel,” the police officer barked, pointing up the custom staircase. “Move.”
