Chapter 7 - The Collapse
“Seventy-two hours?!” Vanessa screamed, grabbing her mother’s arm as if the marble floor beneath them had suddenly begun to split open. “Are you insane?! This is our house! You can't throw us out on the street!”
“The court order is clear, Miss Sterling,” Officer Thomas interjected, his tone flat and official. “If you remain on the property after 5:00 PM on December thirty-first, you will be removed by the Sheriff's Office and booked for felony criminal trespass.”
Margaret stood on the staircase, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her face had lost every trace of its aristocratic color, turning a sickening, chalky white. Her hand pressed against her chest, right over her diamond brooch, as if her heart were attempting to beat its way out of her ribs.
“Daniel... Daniel wouldn't do this to me,” she stammered, her voice losing its terrifying authority, cracking into a pathetic, desperate squeak. “He’s my son. He loves me. That... that girl made him do this!”
“Daniel did not do this alone, Mrs. Sterling,” Pendelton said smoothly, pulling a second document from his folder. “This is a second service. A formal summons for a Civil Damages Lawsuit filed by Claire Sterling for assault, battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, and defamation.”
Pendelton set the papers on the grand foyer console table right beside a crystal vase of fresh white roses.
“And if I were you, Mrs. Sterling, I would retain a criminal defense attorney immediately,” Pendelton added quietly. “Because two hours ago, the Greenwich Police Department opened an active investigation into the felony assault committed against my client on Christmas night. They have the high-definition audio recording. They have the medical records of her facial injuries. And they have the physical evidence of your fingerprints on the shattered glass.”
Margaret gasped, her knees buckling beneath her. She slid down onto the wooden step, her silk dress pooling around her like a fallen flag, her hand clawing at the bannister for support.
May you like
Vanessa threw herself onto the floor beside her mother, sobbing hysterically as she stared at the official court papers lying on the marble floor.
“You have seventy-two hours, Mrs. Sterling,” Pendelton repeated, placing his hat back on his head. “I suggest you spend them packing.”
