Chapter 3 - The Summons at the Office
Across town, in the sleek, glass-fronted offices of Mercer Engineering on the fourteenth floor of a downtown Seattle high-rise, the morning started with the usual hum of corporate ambition.
Evan wasn't there yet—he was still trapped in the maternity ward, staring at me in paralyzed disbelief. But his chief operating officer, Marcus Vance (no relation to my lawyer, but cut from the same ruthless corporate cloth), was sitting at his glass desk reviewing quarterly projections.
The frosted glass door opened.
Two men in tailored suits stepped past the receptionist, who leaped up from her desk protestingly. "Excuse me! You can't just go back there—do you have an appointment—"
The taller of the two men flipped open a leather folder, displaying an official badge and legal seal.
"Process server, King County Superior Court," the man said calmly. "We are here for Evan Mercer and corporate records pertaining to Mercer Engineering LLC."
Marcus stood up from his desk, his face flushing with indignation. "This is private property! Who the hell let you up here? Get security—"
"Mr. Vance," a cool, sharp feminine voice echoed from the hallway.
A woman in a charcoal pantsuit and designer sunglasses stepped into the office, removing her shades to reveal piercing green eyes and an expression of absolute, unbothered authority.
Naomi Brooks.
"Ms. Brooks?" Marcus choked out, recognizing her from a corporate merger meeting two years prior where she had represented an opposing stakeholder. "What is the meaning of this? This is a private commercial office—"
"It's a commercial office operating on assets frozen by court order as of 8:45 AM today," Naomi said smoothly, walking over to Evan's empty leather executive chair and resting one hand casually on the back. "Under cause number 26-3-04912-8, Claire Bennett-Mercer has filed for dissolution of marriage, full sole custody of minor child Lily Bennett-Mercer, and an immediate asset-preservation injunction over all corporate and personal holdings tied to Evan Mercer."
Marcus stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Dissolution? Asset preservation? Are you out of your mind? Evan owns this company—"
"Evan owns a desk and a title," Naomi corrected him crisply, pulling a thick stack of certified documents from her briefcase and dropping them onto the glass desk with a heavy thud. "My client owns eighty-one percent of the voting shares, the physical building title, and every line of credit keeping this sinking ship afloat. Furthermore, effective immediately, all corporate credit cards, petty cash accounts, and secondary draws linked to personal expenses—including rental properties in the Capitol Hill district currently occupied by third parties—are frozen."
Marcus went rigid. Capitol Hill district.
Rachel Cole’s apartment.
The apartment Evan had been funding out of corporate expense accounts under the guise of "software licensing fees."
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"You can't do this," Marcus stammered, grabbing his phone. "I'm calling Evan right now—"
"By all means, call him," Naomi said with a thin, dangerous smile. "Tell him that when he finishes getting humiliated by his wife in the maternity ward, he has twenty-four hours to vacate the marital residence before the sheriff escorts him off the property. Have a wonderful morning, Mr. Vance."
