Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Empire
The next forty-eight hours moved with the terrifying speed of a landslide.
At 8:00 AM Monday morning, my legal team—led by Marcus Thorne, a ruthless senior partner at Dallas's most prestigious corporate firm—filed sixteen separate legal motions in state and federal court.
By noon, temporary restraining orders had been issued against Margaret, Jennifer, and Michael.
By 2:00 PM, federal marshals and local sheriff's deputies arrived at the mansion.
I stood on the front lawn beside Marcus Thorne, wearing a dark suit, holding a cup of black coffee, watching the eviction take place.
Margaret stood beside a pile of cheap cardboard boxes near the driveway, screaming at the deputies as they carried her designer wardrobe out of the house in black garbage bags.
"You can't do this to me!" she shrieked, her voice echoing across the manicured neighborhood. "I am Margaret Vance! My son owns this city!"
"Your son revoked your credit cards three hours ago, ma'am," the lead deputy said calmly, tossing another armload of expensive coat hangers into a rental truck Michael had been forced to hire. "Move along, or you'll be booked for criminal trespass."
Jennifer was sitting on the curb, head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Her sports car had been towed thirty minutes earlier—repossessed after my team revoked the corporate lease agreement.
Michael sat on one of the cardboard boxes, staring blankly at the ground, clutching a single gym bag containing his clothes.
"Where are we supposed to go?" Michael yelled at me across the grass, his voice cracking with desperate rage. "We don't have any money, Dan! All our accounts are frozen! We don't even have enough cash for a motel!"
I walked over to the edge of the driveway, stopping a few feet from where they sat amidst the ruined ruins of their stolen luxury.
"There's a two-bedroom apartment in East Dallas," I said flatly. "I paid the first three months' rent. It's the same neighborhood where Dad worked as a mechanic before he died."
Margaret gasped, her face twisted in horror. "East Dallas? That place is a slum! I won't live in a slum!"
"Then sleep on the street, Mother," I replied without a shred of pity. "There is fifty dollars in cash inside a yellow envelope in that cardboard box. That will cover your groceries for the week. If you want more money... get a job."
"A job?!" Jennifer screamed, looking up with red, swollen eyes. "I haven't worked in six years!"
"Then I suggest you update your resume," I said. "Because by tomorrow morning, the District Attorney will be issuing formal indictments for identity theft, corporate fraud, and grand larceny against all three of you. The only reason you aren't in handcuffs right now is because I gave you twenty-four hours to secure public defenders."
I turned my back on them and walked toward my SUV.
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"Daniel!" Margaret screamed behind me, her voice shrill and terrifying. "You cursed, ungrateful child! God will punish you for what you've done to your mother!"
I didn't stop. I opened the door to the SUV, stepped inside beside Emma, and told the driver to take us away.
