Chapter 6 - The Eviction
At 10:15 p.m., the driveway of the Bainbridge estate was illuminated by the bright amber strobe lights of a locksmith’s van and two black SUVs belonging to Vance Security Solutions.
Conrad stood on his own front lawn, surrounded by four large cardboard boxes containing his clothes, his shoes, and his personal golf clubs.
The cold winter wind beat against his jacket, but he barely felt it. His mind was reeling in absolute, blinding shock.
Two large men in tactical uniforms stood near the front door, watching him with hard, silent eyes while a locksmith replaced the electronic keypads on the main entry.
Conrad pulled out his phone, his hands shaking so violently he dropped it twice into the damp gravel before managing to dial Evelyn’s number.
She picked up on the fourth ring.
“Conrad?” her voice came through the speaker, light, warm, and slightly breathless. “Where are you? We have the partner strategy meeting with my father at nine tomorrow morning.”
“Evelyn... I’m in trouble,” Conrad whispered, stepping away from the security guards toward the edge of the lawn. “Miriam... she knows.”
Silence fell over the line. The warmth vanished from Evelyn’s voice instantly.
“What do you mean she knows?” Evelyn asked, her tone sharpening into a razor-thin wire.
“She was in the hospital... she had pneumonia on New Year’s Eve,” Conrad stammered, trying to make sense of the nightmare unfolding around him. “She saw your scarf, Evelyn. She filed for divorce tonight. Her lawyer is Arthur Pendelton—my uncle! He revoked the loan guarantees for my partner buy-in!”
A long, agonizing pause followed.
“Did she file anything with the firm?” Evelyn asked, her voice entirely devoid of concern for him, focused solely on corporate threat assessment.
“I... I don't know,” Conrad said. “Arthur mentioned an ethics complaint—”
“Do not call me again on this line, Conrad,” Evelyn said coldly.
“Evelyn, wait! I need to stay at your place tonight! They locked me out of the house—”
“Are you insane?” Evelyn snapped. “My father is hosting the board of directors tomorrow! If your name is tied to a domestic abuse scandal and a loan default, my father will cut you loose before breakfast! Do not come near my apartment.”
CLICK.
The line went dead.
Conrad stood in the dark, staring at his phone, the silence of the island crushing down on him like a mountain of lead.
The front door of the estate opened.
Miriam stepped out onto the porch, wrapped in a long dark wool coat, a thick cream scarf tucked neatly around her throat. She looked rested, powerful, and entirely in control of her world.
Beside her stood Blythe and Arthur Pendelton.
Conrad took a desperate step toward the porch. “Miriam! Please! Talk to me! You’re destroying everything I’ve worked for!”
Miriam stopped at the top of the stone steps, looking down at him from above.
“You destroyed it yourself, Conrad,” Miriam said softly, her voice carrying clearly across the quiet driveway. “Seventeen minutes before midnight on New Year’s Eve. When you chose a scarf over your wife’s life.”
She turned to the security guard. “Please make sure Mr. Vance clears his boxes off the property within ten minutes.”
May you like
“Yes, Mrs. Vance,” the guard replied.
Miriam walked back inside, the heavy cedar door closing smoothly behind her, the lock clicking into place with a final, unyielding sound that echoed across the dark water.
