Chapter 4 - The Attorney’s Office at Dawn
The morning sun cast a pale, weak light over downtown Columbus, frost sparkling across the limestone steps of the county courthouse.
By 8:30 a.m. on December 26th—Boxing Day—I was sitting comfortably across the large oak desk from my lifelong attorney and friend, Harrison Vance. No relation to my late husband, but a man who had handled our family trust, wills, and real estate acquisitions for nearly four decades.
Harrison adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, looking down at the legal portfolio I had slid across the desk.
“Eleanor,” Harrison said, a slow, appreciative smile forming under his gray mustache. “You realize what executing these clauses means, don’t you? This isn’t just a slap on the wrist. This is the financial equivalent of a tactical nuclear strike.”
“Brandon has pushed me for the last seven years, Harrison,” I replied evenly, sipping my black coffee. “He treats my home like his personal corporate lounge, he disrespects me in front of my grandchildren, and last night, he and his mother tried to publicly humiliate me out of my own seat at my own Christmas dinner.”
“And the property transfer agreement you signed when he started his engineering firm?” Harrison asked, tapping the second document.
“Revoke it,” I said without a moment of hesitation. “Call in the secondary note. Demand immediate repayment of the seventy-five thousand dollars I advanced him for his commercial inventory. If he cannot pay it within forty-eight hours, initiate foreclosure proceedings on his business assets and serve him with an official notice to vacate my residential property.”
Harrison let out a low whistle. “He’s living in your guest house and main residence annex rent-free, correct? While paying for that luxury sports car?”
“He was,” I corrected him. “As of ten minutes ago, he is an unauthorized occupant trespassing on private property. The locks on the annex were changed by my locksmith at 7:00 a.m. this morning while they were still sleeping off their wine.”
Harrison chuckled, pulling his keyboard toward him. “Consider it done, Eleanor. I’ll have the bailiffs and process servers at your front gate by noon. Shall I include your daughter in the eviction notice?”
May you like
I paused. My chest tightened at the thought of Claire caught in the crossfire. But I knew that as long as Claire was tied to Brandon, she would never see the truth. She needed a shock to wake her up.
“No,” I said firmly. “Claire and the children are welcome to stay in the main house or with me at Martha’s. Brandon and his mother, however, need to pack their bags.”
