Chapter 5 - Freezing the Faucet
At 11:30 AM on Christmas Day, the automated banking servers initiated the commands Marcus Cho had programmed earlier that morning.
The first domino fell at the Manion family home on Oakridge.
Travis was sitting in his study, nursing his third glass of scotch, staring at his laptop screen. Beside him, Danielle was pacing the floor, clutching her smartphone, her face pale.
"What do you mean, declined?" Danielle screeched into her phone. "Run it again! It's a Black Card! It doesn't have a limit!"
She was on the phone with the manager of an ultra-luxury online jewelry boutique where she had attempted to purchase a twelve-thousand-dollar diamond tennis bracelet using the supplementary corporate card Travis had issued her three months ago.
"Ma'am," the voice on the other end responded flatly, "the issuing bank has cancelled the account. The status is marked as 'Closed by Primary Guarantor due to suspected unauthorized utilization.' We cannot process the order."
"Try the other card!" Danielle yelled. "The Platinum business line!"
"Declined as well, ma'am. Code 41. Account flagged."
Danielle slammed her phone onto Travis’s desk. "Travis! What the hell is going on? My cards aren't working!"
Travis didn't answer. He was staring at his personal banking dashboard.
The screen read: *Available Balance: -$4,218.49*.
Every auto-debit transaction scheduled for the end of the month—his luxury car lease, the country club membership dues, the private personal trainer subscription, the payment protection insurance—had been rejected for insufficient funds.
The secondary checking account, the one into which Lana had quietly deposited eight thousand dollars every single month to cover the household deficit, was gone. Not zeroed out. Gone. The account had been unlinked from his profile entirely.
Suddenly, his mobile phone rang. The screen displayed the name of the general manager of the prestige country club where Travis spent every Saturday playing golf to impress clients.
Travis swallowed hard, clearing his throat, attempting to summon his usual booming, confident baritone. "Harold! Merry Christmas, buddy! What's up?"
"Travis," the manager's voice was frigid, devoid of the usual deference. "I am calling from the administrative office. We just received an electronic stop-payment notice from the legal representatives of Mrs. Lana Manion regarding your annual membership dues."
"What? No, that’s just a clerical error, Harold. Lana was updating our banking profiles—"
"It is not a clerical error, Travis. We received a formal notice of non-responsibility drafted by Vance & Sterling. Furthermore, because your primary account was rejected this morning, your outstanding bar tab, pro-shop balance, and guest fees totaling sixteen thousand four hundred dollars are now overdue. If the balance is not cleared by five o'clock tomorrow, your membership will be terminated, and the board will refer the account to collections."
"Harold, wait—"
The line went dead.
Travis sat frozen. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead, soaking the collar of his expensive linen shirt.
Before he could catch his breath, the front door of the house flew open. Sheila marched into the study, her expensive fur coat thrown haphazardly over her shoulders, her makeup slightly smeared.
"Travis!" she cried, her voice cracking with terror. "The mortgage company just sent a priority wire notification to my phone. The forbearance agreement on my house has been revoked! They said the escrow deposit promised for January first was rejected because the funding line was terminated!"
"Shut up!" Travis shouted, standing up so violently that his chair crashed against the mahogany bookcase. "Just shut up! Let me think!"
"Don't you dare speak to me like that!" Sheila shrieked. "You told me you had her completely under control! You told me that stupid little mouse was terrified of you! You said she would sign the loan modification without even reading it!"
"She took the envelope, Mother!" Danielle screamed, tears of pure rage spilling down her face. "She has the Power of Attorney! She has the Delaware filings! She knows everything!"
"She can't do anything with them," Travis said, his voice trembling as he tried to convince himself. "The properties are marital assets. We've been married for six years. Any judge in this county will award me half of the commercial valuation! She can't just cut me off!"
Right on cue, the chime of the front doorbell echoed through the cavernous house.
Travis, Danielle, and Sheila froze.
"Is that her?" Danielle whispered, her eyes wide with desperate hope. "Did she come back to apologize?"
Travis pushed past his sister, hurrying toward the front door. "I knew it. She doesn't have the stomach for a real fight. She knows where her bread is buttered."
He yanked open the heavy oak door, a practiced, patronizing smile already forming on his lips. "Lana, look, I'm glad you came to your senses—"
He stopped.
It wasn't Lana.
Standing on the porch was a burly man wearing a brown leather jacket, holding a clipboard and a legal folder. Behind him, parked at the curb, sat a plain white sedan with two uniformed private security officers inside.
"Travis Manion?" the man asked.
"Yes... who the hell are you?"
The process server thrust a thick sheaf of legal documents against Travis's chest. "You have been served. Emergency Ex Parte Injunction, County Superior Court. Notice of Lis Pendens, property preservation order, and a temporary restraining order barring you from within five hundred feet of Mrs. Lana Manion, Harper Collins, and the commercial premises located at 400 through 412 Industrial Boulevard."
Travis stared at the paperwork in his hands. "What? This is my house! She can't bar me from my own property!"
May you like
The process server offered a thin, professional smile. "Read page four, Mr. Manion. The house is deeded to the *Lana Collins Revocable Living Trust*, established two years prior to your marriage. You have sixty minutes to collect your immediate personal clothing. Security will remain on-site to ensure compliance. Have a very Merry Christmas."
***
