Chapter 6 - The Counterattack
By Thursday morning, twenty-four hours before our scheduled court appearance, Miriam and Derek struck back with the full, devastating force of their wealth.
I had returned to Phoenix with Elena’s evidence locked securely in Claire Adams’s office safe. But as soon as I pulled up to my modest apartment building in Phoenix, I realized something was terribly wrong.
A bright orange notice was taped to my front door.
I ran up the stairs, my stomach twisting into knots, and pulled the paper off the wood.
NOTICE OF IMMEDIATE LEASE TERMINATION AND EVICTION PROCEEDINGS.
“What?” I gasped, reading the fine print. The property management company claimed they had received multiple complaints regarding “criminal police activity,” “unstable domestic disturbances,” and “unauthorized occupancy.”
The management company had recently been acquired by a commercial holding firm three months ago—a firm where Derek Vance sat on the board of directors.
Before I could even process the eviction notice, my cell phone rang. It was my boss, Dr. Gable, the owner of the dental practice where I had worked for four years.
“Paige,” Dr. Gable said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically cold and formal. “I’m calling to inform you that your employment with Gable Family Dental is being terminated effective immediately.”
“Dr. Gable? What are you talking about? Why?”
“We received a formal communication from an attorney representing a high-profile patient this morning,” Dr. Gable said stiffly. “Along with copies of an ongoing police investigation naming you in a high-conflict domestic dispute involving child endangerment allegations. Our practice cannot be associated with this kind of publicity. Your final paycheck will be mailed to you.”
“They are setting me up!” I cried into the receiver, standing on the walkway outside my apartment. “My ex-husband is doing this! He’s trying to strip my income so I lose custody in court tomorrow!”
“I’m sorry, Paige. My decision is final. Do not come to the office.” The line went dead.
I stood there on the concrete balcony, the scorching Phoenix sun beating down on my head, holding my phone in one hand and an eviction notice in the other.
In less than two hours, they had stripped me of my job, my home, and my financial stability. It was a textbook corporate assassination—clean, lethal, and perfectly timed to make me look destitute and unfit when I stood before the judge the next morning.
My phone chimed again. A text message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
“You were warned, Paige. A woman with no home and no job cannot provide for a child. Surrender Hailey gracefully tomorrow, drop the criminal charges against my mother, and Derek will allow you supervised monthly visits. Fight us, and you will end up sleeping on the street alone.”
I stared at the text. It didn't take a genius to know it came directly from Arthur Pendelton’s office or Derek’s burn-phone.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the cold panic threatening to swallow me whole. My knees shook. For a brief, terrifying second, the sheer power of their machine felt overwhelming. They owned the apartment buildings, they influenced the businesses, they paid the high-priced lawyers, and they controlled the narrative.
How could a single mother with fourteen hundred dollars in savings fight a family that could buy the world?
Then, my apartment door swung open.
Hailey stepped out onto the balcony, wearing her oversized pajamas, her bandaged hand resting against her tummy. She looked up at me with those big, trusting blue eyes.
“Mom?” she asked softly. “Are we going to have to move?”
I looked at my daughter. I looked at the faint outline of the white gauze wrapping her burned fingers—a permanent reminder of the horror she had suffered at the hands of people who claimed to love her.
All my fear, all my panic, instantly evaporated, replaced by a scorching, indestructible rage.
I knelt down, wrapped my uninjured arm around Hailey, and kissed her forehead.
“No, baby,” I whispered, looking out toward the glittering high-rises of downtown Phoenix. “We aren't going anywhere. But tomorrow, mom is going to end this.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Claire Adams.
“Claire,” I said, my voice as hard as cold granite. “They just fired me and served an eviction notice.”
Over the line, Claire swore under her breath. “They’re trying to force an emergency settlement before tomorrow’s hearing. They think you’ll panic.”
“I’m not panicking,” I said calmly. “I want you to call the local news stations—CBS 5, 3TV, and the Arizona Republic. Tell them that tomorrow morning, at the Maricopa County Superior Court, Elena Vance—daughter of former Councilman Vance—will be holding a press conference on the courthouse steps to release fifteen-year-old audio recordings of child abuse inside the Vance home.”
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Claire caught her breath. “Paige... that’s nuclear. Pendelton will lose his mind.”
“Let him lose it,” I said, staring at the orange eviction notice in my hand before tearing it into tiny pieces and letting them float down into the parking lot below. “They want a war? I’m bringing the fire.”
