Chapter 3 - The Eviction of Genesis
Three days later. The gates of the Hidden Hills mansion swung open under the gray Minnesota sky.
A large yellow moving truck was parked in the driveway, surrounded by four sheriff's deputies. On the front lawn, three large wooden crates sat piled high with designer coats, antique chinaware, and expensive artwork.
Genesis stood in the center of the driveway, wearing a mink coat despite the chilly air, screaming at the deputies as they carried out her mahogany dining table.
"Hands off that! That table is an Italian import! I will have all of you fired!" she shrieked, her voice echoing across the quiet, wealthy neighborhood.
I stepped out of the back of my black town car, wearing an ice-white pantsuit, dark sunglasses, and a discreet medical strip over my left temple where the stitches were healing. Marcus walked beside me, holding a clipboard.
When Genesis saw me, her posture instantly went rigid. She marched across the lawn, her face contorted with pure hatred.
"You spiteful, venomous bitch!" Genesis screamed, coming within five feet of me before a deputy stepped into her path. "You did this! You stripped my son of his honor! You threw me out of my own home!"
I slowly removed my sunglasses, letting her see the stitches and the dark bruise on my forehead.
"This home was purchased with money Jackson stole from my firm's escrow account, Genesis," I said, my voice completely smooth and unbothered. "You sat at that Italian import table three nights ago, eating roast lamb, watching your son bleed me dry, and planning to take my private apartment."
"It was a family matter!" she sobbed, switching abruptly from rage to desperate manipulation. "Jackson made a mistake! He was drunk! You know how stress affects him! If you do this, you destroy our family's reputation in this city forever!"
"Your family's reputation was built on a foundation of stolen money, unpaid debts, and domestic violence," I replied. "And today, the foundation gave way."
Marcus stepped forward, handing a thick envelope to the deputy chief. "All items not listed in the court-approved personal property inventory have been repossessed under the corporate bankruptcy filing. Mrs. Moretti has fifteen minutes to clear the driveway."
Genesis looked at her prized possessions sitting on the grass, then looked at me, her eyes wide with unadulterated fear. "Where am I supposed to go?! My husband’s dealership is locked! My credit cards don't work!"
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"I hear there are lovely apartments in St. Paul," I said, offering her a cold, sharp smile. "Some of them even have stairs."
Without waiting for her response, I turned and walked up the grand steps of the mansion that was now legally mine. Behind me, the sound of Genesis’s loud, hysterical sobbing echoed across the manicured lawn.
