Chapter 5 - The Eviction Notice
Twenty-four hours later, Patricia and Claire were still sitting in county jail cells, unable to post bond because no bail bondsman would accept frozen trust assets as collateral.
Daniel was staying at a cheap airport motel, his luxury SUV repossessed by the lease company after two defaulted payments that my automatic trust transfers had previously covered.
At 2:00 PM, I met Marcus outside the iron gates of the Mercer Island estate. Two process servers and a deputy sheriff accompanied us.
"Is the eviction notice ready?" I asked Marcus.
"Signed by the housing authority court an hour ago," Marcus replied, holding a thick packet of legal paper. "Since you are the sole trustee of the real estate entity and Patricia defaulted on her life-estate maintenance agreements by failing to pay property taxes for two quarters—taxes you used to quietly pay out of your personal account—she has legally forfeited her right to occupy the residence."
The deputy sheriff unlocked the heavy iron gate using the master key code I provided.
We walked up the winding stone driveway toward the ten-thousand-square-foot Mediterranean-style mansion. The house was quiet, silent, and imposing.
"Change the locks," I instructed the locksmith standing by the service van. "Every door. Reset the alarm codes. Code named: LILY."
For hours, I walked through the massive home that had caused me so much pain over the last decade. This was the house where Patricia had forced me to enter through the kitchen during holiday dinners because my clothes "didn't match the grand foyer's aesthetic." This was the house where Claire had openly mocked my parents' modest retirement store. This was the house where they had tried to raise my daughter to feel ashamed of her mother.
I walked into the master bedroom, opened Patricia's walk-in closet filled with designer furs and Hermès bags, and handed three giant industrial trash bags to the movers.
"Pack her personal clothing," I told them. "Box it up and send it to a storage unit in Tacoma. Pay for one month. Send the key to her jail cell."
"What about the rest of the furniture, Mrs. Carter?" the lead mover asked.
"Everything bought with my earnings goes to an auction house," I said smoothly. "The proceeds will be deposited directly into a medical trust fund for Lily’s long-term trauma therapy."
As the movers began hauling out crystal chandeliers and mahogany tables, my phone rang. It was an unknown number from the county jail.
I accepted the call.
"Eva!" Claire’s hysterical voice shrieked through the speaker. "What are you doing?! Daniel just called me from a payphone! You’re clearing out Mom’s house?!"
"It’s not Mom’s house anymore, Claire," I said, looking at the breathtaking view of Lake Washington from the master balcony. "It’s an asset being liquidated to cover legal damages."
"You are a monster!" Claire screamed, her voice cracking with pure terror. "We have nowhere to go! We are in jail!"
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"You left a ten-year-old child to suffocate on a sofa so you could go swimming," I replied, my tone icy cold. "You are currently in the safest place you could possibly be. Because if you were out here, you’d have to look me in the eye."
I hung up the phone.
