Chapter 3 - The Cold Exile
“Pack your bags,” I said, turning away from them to pick up Noah’s small blue dinosaur backpack from the kitchen stool.
Ryan blinked, stunned. “What? Emily, you can't kick us out of our own—out of my house! My name is on the primary deed!”
“Your name is on a house funded entirely by the pre-seed venture capital funding of my company,” I replied smoothly, pulling my phone from my pocket and tapping a speed-dial number. “And right now, my corporate security team is remotely locking every smart lock, garage door, and bank account tied to your social security number.”
As if on cue, the kitchen’s smart lights flashed red twice, and the motorized front deadbolts slammed shut with a heavy mechanical click.
Diane lunged toward her designer leather handbag resting on the barstool. “You psychotic little witch! I’m calling the police!”
“Go ahead,” I said, pressing the phone to my ear as the call connected. “Tell Officer Miller why you’re reporting a break-in while standing in a house where you just filmed yourself committing felony child abuse and unlawful restraint. I’m sure the local precinct will find the video fascinating.”
Diane’s hand froze inches from her purse. She looked at Ryan, whose face had turned the color of wet limestone.
“Marcus?” I spoke into the phone, ignoring the two monsters standing in my kitchen. “This is Emily Hayes. I need you and two members of the legal-response team at my residence on Oak Ridge Lane immediately. Bring a secure flash drive to harvest local cloud storage, and notify the district attorney’s juvenile division that we have an active child endangerment case with video evidence.”
“On my way, Emily,” Marcus’s calm, authoritative voice came through the speaker. “Ten minutes.”
I ended the call, turned back to my son, and scooped him up into my arms again. Noah rested his head against my shoulder, his small fingers tangling safely in my hair.
“You have twenty minutes to pack your personal belongings into garbage bags and get out of my sight,” I told them, my voice cutting through the kitchen like a scalpel. “If you aren't off the property before Marcus gets here, I won't just hand this video to the police. I’ll send it to every executive at Ryan’s firm, every member of your country club, and every neighbor on this street.”
May you like
Without waiting for their reply, I carried Noah out of the kitchen, walking up the stairs away from the wreckage of my marriage, into a future where no one would ever touch my son again.
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