Chapter 7 - The Eviction
On Thursday morning, the autumn rain had turned into a cold, heavy sleet that blanketed the gated community of Cherry Creek.
Two large commercial moving trucks were parked in the driveway of our seven-thousand-square-foot estate. A team of professional movers in black uniforms was carefully loading mid-century modern furniture, rare art pieces, and antique rugs into the back of the vehicles under the strict supervision of Edwin.
A battered yellow taxi pulled up to the front gate, its tires splashing through muddy puddles.
Graham stepped out of the back seat.
He looked unrecognizable. He wore a rumpled navy coat that was missing two buttons, his hair wild and unwashed, carrying a half-empty paper bag containing cheap bourbon. He looked twenty years older than the polished CEO who had flown to Alaska eleven days ago.
"Stop!" Graham screamed, running up the wet stone driveway toward the movers. "Stop touching my stuff! What the hell are you doing with my art?"
Edwin stepped forward, holding a legal document on a clip board.
"Good morning, Mr. Maddox," Edwin said, his tone perfectly formal and utterly lacking in warmth. "This property was purchased through the Lennox Family Trust in 2018. As you are no longer a resident or a beneficiary of the trust, your personal access privileges were revoked as of eight o'clock this morning."
"This is my house!" Graham roared, trying to push past Edwin toward the grand double doors. "I paid the mortgage on this place for seven years!"
"You paid the property taxes using a home office reimbursement account funded by Lennox Meridian, Graham," my voice called out from the covered stone porch.
I stepped down the broad stairs wearing a long dark coat and gloves, holding an umbrella over my head.
Graham stopped in his tracks, staring at me with a terrifying combination of rage, grief, and absolute powerlessness.
"Audrey," he choked out, his voice raspy from alcohol and screaming. "You're taking the house too? Where am I supposed to live? All my credit cards were declined this morning! My bank accounts are frozen!"
"You can live wherever one hundred and eighty thousand dollars in personal liquid savings allows you to live, Graham," I said, standing three steps above him on the stone terrace. "That is the amount remaining in your personal checking account after the court-ordered preliminary freeze."
"One hundred and eighty thousand?" Graham laughed hysterically, throwing his hands in the air. "I owe my defense lawyers two hundred thousand just for the retainer! I have tax liabilities from the Seattle apartment! I have lease payments on the Porsche!"
"Then I suggest you sell the Porsche," I replied calmly. "And perhaps find a less expensive legal team."
Graham stumbled up two steps, his face twisting into a desperate, agonizing plea. "Audrey... please. Think about Ethan. What are you going to tell him when he asks where his father lives? Are you going to tell him you threw his dad onto the street?"
My eyes narrowed into lethal slits. The rain lashed against the canvas of my umbrella, but my hand remained completely steady.
"Ethan asked for you while his heart was stopped, Graham," I said, every word dropping like an anvil onto his chest. "He asked for you while a machine was breathing for him. And you were taking selfies under the green lights in Alaska with Celeste. Do you know what I told him this morning when he asked why you hadn't visited him in the hospital?"
Graham swallowed hard, his body trembling violently in the cold sleet. "What... what did you tell him?"
"I told him that his father was a very small man who went away on a long journey," I whispered. "And that he never has to worry about disappointing you ever again."
Graham collapsed onto his knees on the wet stone steps, dropping his paper bag. The bourbon bottle shattered against the granite, spilling dark amber liquid into the muddy rainwater.
"I loved you, Audrey," Graham wept, burying his face in his cold, wet hands. "I really loved you..."
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"You loved the reflection of yourself you saw in my eyes, Graham," I said, stepping past his kneeling form toward the back seat of my waiting Maybach. "And once I stopped looking at you, you ceased to exist."
I stepped into the warm leather interior of the car, and Edwin quietly closed the door behind me, blocking out the sound of Graham's pitiful weeping in the rain.
