Chapter 4 - The Twelve O'Clock Eviction
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the guest suite, casting warm golden patterns across the floor. Celeste had been awake since dawn. She had fed Ivy, changed her diaper, and dressed her in a soft white cotton onesie embroidered with small silver stars.
She dressed herself in a sharp, structured charcoal blazer over a black silk blouse, paired with tailored trousers and classic leather heels. Her posture was immaculate; there was no trace of the exhausted, weeping woman Wade had tried to dismiss the night before. She looked like a corporate titan preparing for a hostile takeover.
At precisely 11:45 AM, heavy footsteps echoed loudly down the upper hallway.
The bedroom door flew open without a knock. Wade strode into the room, dressed in a sharp Italian wool suit, his briefcase in hand. Behind him stood Lorraine, wearing a smug, triumphant smirk, followed by Brynn, who was casually sipping coffee from one of Celeste’s antique porcelain cups.
“Well, Celeste? Are your bags packed?” Wade demanded, checking his luxury wristwatch. “I have a busy day at the office, and I expect this house to be empty when I get back tonight. Brynn is moving her things into the master suite this afternoon, and I don't want to see a single trace of your clothes or your belongings lingering around.”
Celeste remained seated at the mahogany desk in the corner of the suite, calmly closing the lid of her laptop. She turned her chair slowly to face them.
She did not look like a woman being thrown out onto the street. She looked like a queen surveying trespassing peasants.
“My bags are packed, Wade,” Celeste said smoothly.
Wade grunted with satisfaction. “Good. At least you have some common sense left. Honestly, Celeste, I don't know why you’re making such a big deal out of this. Men in my position have needs. Brynn understands my ambitions. You were always too... domestic. Too quiet.”
“Indeed,” Celeste replied, standing up slowly. She picked up the gray baby carrier, ensuring little Ivy was resting comfortably, and walked calmly toward the center of the room.
Lorraine crossed her arms, sniffing dismissively. “Don't look at us with that ridiculous expression, Celeste. You brought this on yourself. A woman who cannot keep her husband satisfied has only herself to blame when he looks elsewhere.”
Before Celeste could respond, a deep, rhythmic sound echoed from the front of the property.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heavy boots marching across the polished marble floor of the foyer. Voices—deep, authoritative, and entirely uninvited.
Wade frowned, his smug expression faltering. “What on earth? Did you leave the front door unlocked for your rideshare, Celeste?”
He turned and strode out of the guest suite toward the grand staircase, looking down into the foyer. Lorraine and Brynn followed closely behind.
Celeste walked out behind them, carrying Ivy with effortless grace, stopping at the top of the landing just where she had stood the night before.
Down in the foyer stood four men in dark charcoal suits, flanked by two uniformed county sheriff deputies. Leading the group was Marcus Sterling, carrying a thick leather briefcase.
Wade marched down the stairs, his face flushing with angry color.
“What is the meaning of this?” Wade barked, pointing a finger at the deputies. “Who invited you into my home? This is private property! I demand you leave immediately or I will have you all arrested for trespassing!”
The lead deputy didn't even blink. He pulled a folded legal document from his belt and held it out.
“Are you Wade Carrington?” the deputy asked.
“Yes, I am Wade Carrington! And I am telling you—truly, who do you think you’re dealing with? I know the mayor! I sit on the board of the Chamber of Commerce!” Wade ranted, his voice rising in panic.
Marcus Sterling stepped forward, a cold, razor-sharp smile playing on his lips. He didn't look at Wade; he looked up the stairs toward Celeste, giving her a subtle, respectful nod. Then he turned his attention back to the sputtering executive.
“Mr. Carrington,” Marcus said smoothly, his voice carrying clearly through the high-ceilinged foyer. “You are not being arrested for trespassing. You are being served with an immediate Notice of Eviction, a writ of possession, and a corporate asset freeze order.”
Wade froze. The color drained entirely from his face, leaving him looking pasty and hollow.
“An... an eviction?” Wade stammered, laughing nervously. “Are you out of your mind? I bought this house! I hold the mortgage! Look at the county registry—!”
“The county registry reflects that 4200 Meadowbrook Lane is owned outright by the Sterling Family Trust, purchased via an all-cash transaction on May 14th two years ago,” Marcus interrupted calmly, opening his leather briefcase and pulling out the original deed bearing Celeste’s maiden signature. “You were granted a revocable license to reside here as a domestic partner. That license was officially revoked at 11:00 PM last night by the sole beneficiary and legal owner of the property.”
May you like
Marcus paused, looking up the stairs directly at Celeste, who stood tall and radiant against the dark railing.
“That owner,” Marcus continued, raising his voice so every person in the house could hear, “is Celeste Marlowe Sterling.”
