Chapter 3 - The Morning After the Lockout
The morning sun cut through the vertical blinds of my office, casting harsh stripes of light across the stack of financial printouts scattered across my desk.
I hadn't slept a wink. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see Emma’s raw, red hands gripping that heavy skillet.
My phone buzzed violently against the mahogany wood.
An incoming call from an unknown number. I swiped to answer and brought the receiver to my ear.
“Mr. Miller?” a sharp, professionally cold female voice barked through the speaker. “My name is Attorney Sarah Vance—no relation to Vanessa, though I’m sure you’re sick of the name. I’m representing your wife regarding the illegal eviction and assault that took place at your residence last night.”
I leaned back in my leather chair, letting out a slow, controlled breath. “My wife is currently a trespasser on property owned exclusively by the Mercer-Holloway Trust, and if she ever comes within five hundred feet of my children again, the police won't be serving her an eviction notice—they’ll be reading her Miranda rights.”
There was a brief, stunned silence on the other end of the line.
“Mr. Miller, you cannot simply throw your spouse onto the street and lock her out without a formal legal separation filing,” Sarah continued, her tone regaining its aggressive edge. “Furthermore, Mrs. Miller informs me that you have restricted access to her personal accounts and threatened her physical safety. We will be filing for an emergency protective order and a temporary asset freeze by noon.”
“Go ahead and file whatever you like, Counselor,” I said calmly, opening a secondary browser tab. “Before you do, I suggest you pull up transaction log #4092 from our joint corporate account dated three weeks ago. Ask your client to explain why forty grand was wired to an unregistered offshore entity called Apex Holdings without my signature or consent. That’s grand larceny, Counselor. Class one felony. Shall we compare notes in front of a judge, or would your client prefer to sign a mutual non-contest divorce waiver by sundown?”
Another long pause. This one lasted nearly ten seconds.
“I… I will need to speak with my client,” Sarah stammered, all the bravado completely draining from her voice.
“You have until noon,” I said, and hung up the phone.
I stood up, stretched my stiff shoulders, and walked into the kitchen.
Leo was sitting at the breakfast counter, quietly pouring cereal into two bowls while Emma sat beside him, coloring with a box of crayons using her left hand because her right palms were still sore and blistered.
When Emma looked up and saw me, her eyes lit up with a tentative, hopeful smile.
“Morning, Daddy,” she whispered.
“Morning, my little warrior,” I said, walking over and lifting her up into my arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “How about we go out for pancakes today? Big stack, extra syrup, and no dishes required.”
May you like
Emma giggled, wrapping her arms around my neck. For the first time in months, the heavy dark cloud hanging over our house felt like it was finally lifting.
---
