Chapter 6 - The Slumlord's Mistake
The apartment door wasn't knocked on this time; it was shoved open violently, stopped only by the frame.
A stocky man in a leather jacket entered without wiping his muddy boots. His breath smelled of stale tobacco and cheap coffee. Behind him stood two burly men carrying clipboards and crowbars. It was Bradley Geller, the local property manager for Apex Horizon Ventures.
“Vance!” Geller barked, completely ignoring the guests in the room. “Time’s up. You’re three weeks behind on the updated tariff, and the notice period expired yesterday. We’re changing the locks and tagging the furniture for city disposal.”
Elena stepped between Geller and her children, her voice shaking with righteous fury. “The court hearing isn't until next Tuesday, Geller! You cannot legally touch my belongings or change the locks without an officer present!”
“The court hearing is a formality, sweetheart,” Geller sneered, taking out a set of heavy brass master keys. “You don't have the rent, you don't have a lawyer, and Apex owns the title. Pack your bags into trash sacks or I’ll have my boys toss them down the fire escape.”
One of Geller’s men took a step toward the children's dresser.
“Take one more step,” a deep, gravelly voice echoed from the hallway, “and you will spend the next twenty-five years of your life answering federal indictments in a maximum-security penitentiary.”
Geller spun around. “Who the hell are you? Get out of my building!”
Charles Evans stepped through the threshold. He had removed his wet overcoat, revealing a bespoke three-piece Savile Row suit. In his hand, he carried a single leather portfolio. Behind him, Marcus Thorne and two uniformed officers from the Boston Police Department stood shoulder to shoulder, filling the hallway with an undeniable aura of authority.
Geller blinked, caught off guard by the police presence. “Officers, this is a private eviction under commercial renovation statutes. This man has no standing here.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Geller,” Charles said smoothly, stepping into the center of the room. “I am the only person who has standing here.”
Charles snapped his fingers. Marcus stepped forward and handed Geller a certified legal document bearing the red wax seal of the Massachusetts Land Court and the Massachusetts Secretary of State.
“What is this garbage?” Geller muttered, scanning the paper.
“At approximately four-fifteen this afternoon,” Charles explained with icy precision, “my investment firm acquired ninety-four percent of the voting shares of Apex Horizon Ventures. At four-thirty, I dissolved the parent entity and transferred ownership of this property, along with twelve other residential complexes in Dorchester, to the Evans Family Trust.”
Geller’s face lost all its color. His mouth fell open. “You... you bought the parent company?”
“I did,” Charles said. “Which means, Mr. Geller, that I am now your employer. Or rather, I was your employer until four-thirty-one, at which point you were terminated for gross negligence, tenant harassment, and reckless violation of municipal housing codes.”
Charles looked at the two police officers. “Officers, please remove these trespassers from my property. If they set foot on Mercer Street again, arrest them for criminal harassment.”
Geller didn't say another word. Terrified, he backed out of the room, followed quickly by his two men and the officers.
The door clicked shut. The apartment was once again silent.
May you like
Elena Vance leaned against her kitchen counter, her knees trembling so violently she had to hold on to the edge to keep from falling.
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