Chapter 4 - The Clean Sweep
By 8:00 AM the following morning, the sun was beating down relentlessly over the Phoenix skyline.
I stood in the center of my living room. The folding tables from my mother’s party were still set up, littered with half-empty glasses, dirty napkins, and dried sauce stains on the wood floor.
Beside me stood two men in blue jumpsuits from a commercial moving company, along with a locksmith who was currently busy drilling out the deadbolts on the front door.
"Mr. Ferris?" the head mover asked, holding a clipboard. "You want everything in the back bedroom packed?"
"Everything," I said flatly. "If it belongs to Carmen Ferris, put it in heavy-duty cardboard boxes. Do not leave a single hairband, shoe, or piece of paper behind."
"Where are we delivering it?"
"Storage unit down on 19th Avenue," I replied, handing him a key. "I’ve paid for two weeks. After that, if she or her lawyer doesn't pay the bill, the storage company can auction it off for all I care."
While the movers began clearing out Carmen’s room, my phone rang. It was Marcus Vance, my old college roommate and one of the top corporate litigators in Arizona.
"Zayden," Marcus’s deep voice boomed through the speaker. "I read the emails you sent over at four this morning. Jesus Christ, man. Are you and Jessica okay?"
"We’re surviving, Marcus," I said, stepping out onto the balcony to escape the noise of the locksmith’s drill. "Jessica and Olivia are still in the hospital. Olivia’s burns are stable, but the doctors want to keep her for another twenty-four hours to monitor for infection."
"Good. Keep them there where it’s safe," Marcus advised. "Now, listen to me carefully regarding your father-in-law’s estate in San Diego."
"Did you contact the probate court?"
"I did better than that," Marcus said, the sound of papers shuffling in the background. "I filed an emergency ex-parte motion with the San Diego Superior Court at seven thirty this morning. I attached the police arrest report for Carmen Ferris, the statement from the Phoenix PD SVU unit, and the preliminary forensic analysis of the forged notary stamp from Arthur Pendelton."
"What did the judge say?"
"The judge issued an immediate freeze on the entire estate," Marcus reported triumphantly. "Not a single cent can be moved, transferred, or liquidated by anyone until a full evidentiary hearing is held. Furthermore, the judge issued an arrest warrant for Arthur Pendelton for felony notary fraud and filing false legal instruments."
A huge weight lifted off my chest, but I knew we weren't done.
"What about Carmen’s defense?" I asked. "Does she have a lawyer yet?"
Marcus’s tone dropped into a serious, guarded register. "That’s actually why I called you, Zayden. Someone posted her bail."
I froze, my hand tightening around the balcony railing until my knuckles turned white. "What? Detective Vance said bail was set at one million dollars!"
"It was," Marcus confirmed. "Which means someone put up a hundred thousand dollars cash or pledged a million dollars in collateral to a bail bondsman at six o'clock this morning."
"Who?" I demanded. "Who the hell would pay a million dollars for a child abuser?!"
"A guy named Julian Rossi," Marcus said. "Does that name mean anything to you?"
I frowned, running the name through my head. "No. Never heard of him."
"Well, I have," Marcus said grimly. "Julian Rossi is a private real estate developer based out of Baltimore. He owns three dozen low-income apartment complexes, a few private parking structures, and rumor has it he operates a high-interest private lending network."
Baltimore.
My mother’s hometown. The place she lived for forty years before moving into my apartment.
"Why would a Baltimore loan shark pay a hundred thousand dollars to pull my mother out of a Phoenix jail?" I asked.
"Because, Zayden," Marcus said softly, "your mother didn't just move to Phoenix because her knees hurt. She moved here because she owed someone a massive amount of money. And my guess is, she promised Julian Rossi that once she got her hands on Jessica’s two-million-dollar inheritance, he’d get paid back with interest."
The pieces of the puzzle were finally clicking together, creating a picture far darker and more dangerous than I had ever imagined.
Carmen hadn't just been a cruel, greedy mother-in-law. She was a desperate, cornered gambler who had turned my home into a prison to pay off her debts to a criminal syndicate.
"Marcus," I said, my voice cold as ice. "Where is she now?"
"The bondsman picked her up two hours ago," Marcus replied. "According to my source at the county jail, she left in a black Lincoln Navigator registered to a local holding company owned by Rossi."
"Is she coming back to the apartment?"
"I don't think she’s that stupid, Zayden," Marcus warned. "But if Rossi is involved, this isn't just about family drama anymore. This is about money. Two point four million dollars. And people like Julian Rossi don't walk away from two point four million dollars."
Before I could answer, the locksmith walked out onto the balcony, holding two brand-new, heavy-duty silver keys.
"Locks are changed, Mr. Ferris," the locksmith said. "High-security digital deadbolts with fingerprint scanners. Nobody gets through that front door unless you program their hand into the system."
"Thank you," I said, taking the keys.
I turned back to the phone. "Marcus, I’m heading back to the hospital. I’m hiring private security guards for Jessica and Olivia’s room right now."
"Smart move," Marcus said. "I’ll meet you at the hospital in an hour. We need to prepare Jessica’s deposition before Rossi’s lawyers try to serve us with a counter-suit."
I hung up the phone, stepped back inside the apartment, and looked at the empty living room.
May you like
The folding tables were gone. Carmen’s boxes were stacked high near the door. The smell of roasted pork was fading, replaced by the sharp, metallic tang of industrial cleaning chemicals.
My home was mine again. But the war had just expanded beyond its walls.
