Chapter 6 - The Eviction Notice
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I placed my hand over Lorraine’s, anchoring her to my side.
I looked at the luxurious dining room, the untouched food, the expensive centerpieces Brooke had ordered using Mason’s credit cards. Then I looked at the woman who had tried to steal it all.
“You have seventy-two hours,” I said to Brooke.
Her eyes darted toward me, the cold calculation returning. “Seventy-two hours for what?”
“To vacate my property,” I stated, my voice echoing with absolute finality in the quiet room.
Brooke let out a short, dry laugh. “You can't legally evict me in three days. I have tenant rights. I know the law in Texas.”
“You are not a tenant,” I corrected smoothly. “There is no lease agreement. You pay no rent. Legally, you are a guest at will. However, I am more than happy to follow formal eviction procedures if you prefer to have a public court record detailing your attempted real estate fraud and forged financial documents.”
I paused, letting the weight of the threat settle over her.
“A formal eviction takes thirty days,” I continued quietly. “But a police investigation into attempted grand larceny begins the moment I hand this quitclaim deed to the district attorney. Your choice, Brooke.”
For the first time all evening, genuine fear flashed in her gray eyes. She looked at the leather portfolio still resting in Mason’s hands. The evidence of her crime was undeniable.
“Mason,” Brooke said, turning to her husband, her voice suddenly adopting a desperate, pleading tone. “Are you going to let him do this? Are you going to let him throw your wife out on the street?”
Mason slowly looked up. The exhaustion in his face had settled deep into his bones.
“It’s his house, Brooke,” Mason whispered.
“It’s our home!” she hissed, dropping the soft facade.
“Not anymore,” Mason replied. He walked over to the dining table and dropped the leather portfolio onto the polished wood. “I’ll pack my bags tonight.”
Brooke stared at him, the realization dawning that she had finally pushed her compliant husband too far.
I didn't wait to watch the rest of the marital collapse. I had secured the perimeter and established the timeline.
May you like
“Seventy-two hours,” I repeated.
I guided Lorraine toward the front door. We stepped out into the cool, dark Texas night, leaving the beautiful, poisoned house behind us.
