Chapter 15 - The Eviction Notice
By midnight, my house was dark, but not empty.
Under the supervision of three armed deputies, I packed two large rolling suitcases with essential clothes, Sadie and Theo’s medical records, their favorite stuffed animals, and their portable cribs.
Standing in the master bedroom that I had shared with Greg for four years, I felt no grief. No nostalgia. No heartbreak.
The room was just a collection of inanimate objects: a bed purchased with my money, curtains hung with my labor, a closet filled with designer suits Greg had bought using funds laundered from my hard-earned bonuses.
On the nightstand sat a framed wedding portrait from four years ago. We were standing on a sun-drenched bluff overlooking the Pacific, smiling like two people who had their entire lives figured out. I picked up the heavy silver frame, popped the backing open, and slid the photograph out.
I didn't tear it. I tossed it into the metal wastebasket, picked up my suitcase, and walked downstairs.
On the front door, Frank Davis’s associate had already affixed the court-ordered red seal: a permanent judicial notice of civil trespass and immediate eviction against Gregory Vance and Evelyn Vance. Anyone attempting entry was subject to immediate arrest and felony burglary charges.
Outside, the wind howled through the bare oaks, whipping dry snow across the concrete driveway.
"Where are you taking them, Carly?" Marcus asked quietly. He had driven over from the terminal the moment he heard about the crash, refusing to leave my side until we were secure.
"The company maintains an executive corporate apartment on the top floor of the downtown logistics tower," I told him, strapping the twins into Marcus’s heavy truck for extra security. "It requires keycard clearance at the elevator, private twenty-four-hour lobby guards, and has no exterior ground access. It’s an impenetrable fortress."
"Good," Marcus said, slamming the tailgate. "Let's get you there."
We arrived at the downtown high-rise at 1:15 a.m. The corporate apartment was immaculate, warm, and utterly sterile—a modern sanctuary of brushed steel, hardwood, and floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass overlooking the sprawling city below.
I set up the twins' travel cribs in the interior master suite, far away from any windows. After nursing Sadie and rocking Theo until his soft, steady breathing filled the quiet room, I collapsed onto the sofa in the living area.
My phone chimed softly on the coffee table.
It was an alert from my home security app.
I opened the feed, my pulse quickening.
The motion sensor on my suburban home’s backyard patio had been tripped at 1:42 a.m.
The screen flickered to life in high-definition infrared night vision.
The snow in the backyard was falling heavily, but the figure standing on the patio was unmistakable.
It was Greg.
He was wearing a dark hooded parka, caked in mud and snow. He held an iron crowbar in his gloved right hand. He walked up to the back sliding glass door, saw the heavy steel security bar locked into the track, and hammered the crowbar against the double-pane tempered glass.
The glass shattered into a thousand spiderweb fractures, but the reinforced storm laminate held firm.
Greg leaned his face close to the camera, panting heavily, his breath billowing like smoke in the freezing air. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and completely wild.
He looked directly into the lens of the surveillance camera, knowing I was watching.
He pulled back his sleeve, tapped his wristwatch, and mouthed three silent words into the camera:
May you like
*I find you.*
***
