Chapter 3 - The Black Friday Knock
By nine o’clock the following morning, the Peterson brownstone was supposed to be preparing for its traditional Black Friday brunch. Carol always invited the neighborhood elite to display the family’s silver, while Frank smoked cigars in the library with local municipal judges.
Instead, three marked Chicago Police squad cars pulled up to the front entrance.
Through the live surveillance feed of the brownstone’s smart doorbell—which I still had administrative access to on my phone—I watched the morning unfold.
Officer Davis and his partner walked up the wide stone stairs and rang the brass bell.
A moment later, the heavy door swung open. Frank Peterson stood in his monogrammed silk robe, holding a cup of espresso, looking annoyed at the intrusion.
“Can I help you, officers?” Frank asked, using his signature authoritative tone reserved for service workers.
“We’re looking for Megan Peterson,” Officer Davis stated flatly. “We have an active warrant for her arrest for misdemeanor domestic battery involving a minor.”
Frank’s face drained of color. “What? You have made an egregious error. This is a private family matter. My son’s wife had an emotional breakdown last night—”
“Step aside, sir,” Officer Davis interrupted. “Is Megan Peterson on the premises?”
Behind Frank, Carol appeared in the marble foyer, perfectly coiffed, her pearl necklace gleaming. “Frank, who is at the door? What is the meaning of this racket?”
Megan drifted down the curved oak staircase, yawning, holding a mug. She stopped midway down when she saw the uniforms.
“Megan Peterson?” the second officer called out, stepping through the threshold. “You are under arrest. Hands behind your back, please.”
“What? Are you insane?” Megan shrieked, backing up two steps. “Mark! Dad! Tell them who we are! You can't touch me!”
Mark emerged from the dining room, looking hungover and bewildered. “Officers, wait! I’m Mark Peterson. I’m the father of the child. I’m telling you this is a misunderstanding! My wife is unstable, she’s doing this out of spite!”
“Sir, the emergency protective order explicitly names you as an excluded party,” Officer Davis said, unhooking a pair of steel handcuffs. “Step back, or you will be arrested for obstruction.”
The scene deteriorated into chaos.
Megan began screaming obscenities as the female officer ascended the stairs, pulled her hands behind her back, and clicked the cuffs into place around her manicured wrists. Carol began weeping theatrically, clinging to Frank’s arm, shouting about the press and social ruin.
Across the street, several neighbors who had stepped outside to collect their morning papers paused on their sidewalks, phones already raised to film the Peterson daughter being escorted down the stone steps in handcuffs, her head forced down into the back of a squad car.
My phone rang within seconds.
Mark’s name flashed across the screen. I answered, putting the call on speakerphone so Zoe could record it.
“What the hell did you do?!” Mark’s voice cracked in hysterics. “Have you lost your goddamn mind, Chloe? They just arrested Megan! They took her out in front of the entire block! Do you have any idea what this will do to Dad’s firm? To our reputation?”
“Good morning, Mark,” I said calmly.
“Drop the charges right now!” he bellowed. “Call the police and tell them Lily tripped! Tell them it was an accident! If you don't fix this by noon, I swear to God I will take full custody of Lily and leave you with nothing!”
“You won't be taking anything,” I replied, my voice dropping so cold that the line fell momentarily silent. “You chose your sister the moment her hand struck our daughter’s face. You chose your family’s fragile ego over the safety of your child. So now, you get to live with the consequences.”
“Chloe, don't do this—”
“You’ll receive paperwork by lunch, Mark. Have your lawyer ready.”
I hung up, cutting him off mid-sentence, and turned to Zoe.
May you like
“Phase two,” I said.
***
