Chapter 6 - The Siege of Vance Manor
At Vance Manor, total chaos had taken hold.
Suitcases, designer clothes, shoes, and luxury bags were scattered across the master bedroom floor. Chloe was frantically throwing expensive jewelry and leather purses into a trunk, while Jason stood in the hallway, screaming into his phone at a real estate attorney who refused to take his call at eleven o'clock on a Sunday night.
"He won't answer!" Jason yelled, slamming his phone against the wall. "His secretary said he's out of the country!"
Marlene walked down the hallway like a ghost, her face pale, her hands shaking violently as she held a pair of car keys.
"Forget the clothes," Marlene whispered, her eyes hollow. "Forget the bags. Grab the safe contents. The physical cash, the gold coins, the bearer bonds from your father's desk."
"Mom, we can't just run!" Jason panicked, pulling at his hair. "Where are we going to go?! My bank card was just declined at the gas station online portal!"
Marlene snapped her head toward him, her eyes wide with horror. "What?!"
"I tried to transfer five thousand dollars to my personal checking account two minutes ago," Jason stammered, showing her his phone screen. "It said 'Account Frozen - Legal Hold - Authority: Delaware Chancery Court.'"
"It’s already starting," Marlene whimpered, dropping her car keys onto the hardwood floor. "She’s freezing everything..."
Downstairs, the heavy iron knockers on the front entrance doors boomed through the quiet house.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Marlene froze. Jason gasped, grabbing Chloe by the arm as she stepped out of the bedroom holding her screaming infant.
"Is that... is that the police?!" Chloe whimpered, tears streaming down her face. "Jason, what did your mother do?! Are we going to jail?!"
"Shut up!" Marlene hissed, creeping toward the top of the grand staircase and peeking through the wrought-iron railings down into the foyer.
Through the frosted glass panels of the front entrance, three silhouettes were visible under the porch lights: a tall woman in a sharp charcoal suit holding a thick leather briefcase, accompanied by two uniformed men wearing tactical vests marked COUNTY SHERIFF.
The county sheriff’s office didn't serve routine civil court summonses at eleven o'clock at night—unless they were executing an emergency judicial order signed by a state magistrate.
The knock came again, louder this time.
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THUD. THUD. THUD.
"Marlene Vance!" a authoritative male voice boomed from the porch. "This is Deputy Sheriff Miller! We are executing an emergency writ of possession and asset preservation order for the property located at 142 Vance Manor Drive! Open the door immediately!"
