Chapter 3 - The Eviction
Midnight in the affluent Chicago suburb of Oak Brook was usually dead silent. Tonight, however, the driveway of the Hartwell Trust estate was illuminated by the flashing amber and blue lights of two private security tow trucks and a local police cruiser.
Evan Hartwell stood in the rain, wearing an expensive designer suit jacket over a wrinkled t-shirt, clutching a single cardboard box filled with his shoes, cologne bottles, and a framed college diploma.
“You can’t do this!” Evan screamed at the lead security guard, a hulking ex-marine named Miller. “I am a resident here! I have rights! Call the cops!”
Miller pointed lazily toward the local police officer leaning against the cruiser door. “Officer Davis is already here, Mr. Hartwell. And he’s the one holding the eviction notice signed by Judge Harrison twenty minutes ago.”
Officer Davis sighed, stepping forward, holding a legal document. “Mr. Hartwell, cut your losses. The property ownership has reverted entirely to the Hartwell Trust. If you don't clear the driveway right now, I’m arresting you for disturbing the peace and trespassing.”
Gloria stumbled down the front steps, wrapped in a fur coat over her nightgown, her hair wild and face smeared with mascara. “Evan! Tell them! Tell them we own this place! Call your father’s friends!”
“My father’s friends won’t even take my calls, Mother!” Evan snapped, his face contorted in hysterical rage. He dropped his cardboard box, sending his Italian leather dress shoes spilling across the wet asphalt. “It’s all gone! The cars are locked! The credit cards are declined! They even froze my personal checking account!”
A sleek black tow truck backed up smoothly to the driveway, its hydraulic winch instantly hooking onto the front axle of Evan’s prized BMW M4—a car that had been leased through Hartwell Dining Group funds.
“Hey! That’s my car!” Evan yelled, lunging forward.
Miller grabbed Evan by the collar of his designer jacket, lifting him off his feet with casual ease and tossing him onto the grass. “Step back, sir. Interference with repo operations is a felony.”
Gloria shrieked, covering her face as the BMW was hoisted into the air and towed away down the dark suburban street.
“This isn't over!” Gloria wailed, pointing a shaking finger toward the dark sky. “Margaret Hartwell thinks she can destroy us? We’ll sue! We’ll go to the press! We’ll ruin them!”
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“Lady, the only thing you’re ruining right now is the grass,” Officer Davis said bluntly, opening the rear door of his cruiser for a different reason entirely. “Now, do you two have a ride, or do I need to call a cab to the nearest motel?”
Evan stared at the empty driveway, the rain soaking through his designer clothes, freezing him to the bone. For the first time in his life, the invisible safety net of his wealth and his last name had completely vanished. He wasn't a corporate executive. He wasn't a lord. He was just a broke, arrogant man standing in the rain with a box of shoes.
