Chapter 6 - The Serving of Truth
Uncle Robert frowned. "Who is that at this hour?"
Before anyone could answer, the front door swung open. Greg, the process server, walked calmly into the foyer, holding the thick manila envelope.
"Thomas Donovan? Mary Donovan? Rachel Donovan?" Greg called out in a professional voice.
Uncle Robert stood up, furious. "Hey! Who the hell are you?! You can't just walk into my private residence!"
Greg paid no attention to Uncle Robert’s outrage. He stepped into the dining room, pulled out three separate sets of legal folders, and laid them directly onto the table next to the prime rib platter.
"Mary Donovan, you are formally served with a civil lawsuit from the Franklin County Court of Common Pleas regarding $32,000 in unauthorized withdrawals from a joint account, along with a subpoena for all personal financial records from 2022 to present," Greg said clearly.
Mom gasped, clutching her chest as if she had been hit.
Greg turned to Rachel. "Rachel Donovan, you are formally served with a civil complaint seeking $28,450 for credit card fraud, identity theft, and conversion, alongside an emergency asset injunction freezing all bank accounts associated with your shell LLC."
Rachel let out a sharp, choked scream, knocking her wine glass over, staining the white tablecloth deep red.
"And Robert Donovan," Greg said, turning to my uncle.
Uncle Robert went completely pale. "What?! I don't owe her anything! I have nothing to do with this!"
"Robert Donovan," Greg read from the third folder, "you are served with a formal third-party subpoena requiring full financial disclosure regarding the $15,000 'consulting fee' you transferred from your real estate firm into Mary Donovan's private account three weeks ago—funds that our forensic audit indicates were used to conceal secondary debt."
Uncle Robert’s mouth snapped shut. His eyes darted nervously toward his son Mark, who was staring at his father in complete shock.
"What consulting fee, Dad?" Mark asked, standing up. "You told the company board last month that we were cutting expenses because construction costs were up! You gave Aunt Mary fifteen thousand dollars of corporate funds?!"
"It was a personal loan!" Uncle Robert stuttered, his powerful demeanor vanishing in a second.
"It was corporate wire fraud, Uncle Robert," I said, stepping forward. "Because you transferred business capital from your tax-exempt development fund to help Mom cover up Rachel’s defaulted luxury debts."
I looked around the table at the broken, panicked faces of the family that had treated me like an outsider, a servant, and a garbage can for my entire life.
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"The seventy-two hours are up," I said, closing my coat. "I'll see you all in court."
As Greg and I walked out of the mansion into the cool night air, the screaming matches inside Uncle Robert’s dining room echoed out into the quiet streets of Upper Arlington.
