Chapter 5 - The Line in the Sand
I walked over to the kitchen island, grabbed my leather handbag, and pulled out my tablet and laptop. I opened my personal cloud drive and immediately initiated a full backup of every bank statement, tax document, and text message I had saved over the past five years.
"What are you doing?" Keaton asked, his voice shaking as he watched me type rapidly on my laptop.
"I’m securing my life," I replied without looking up. "Tomorrow morning, I am opening a new checking account at a completely different banking institution. My new salary of twelve thousand dollars will be deposited there. Not a single cent will touch our joint account."
"You can't do that!" Keaton shouted. "If you don't pay the forty-three thousand dollars by Friday, Apex Capital forecloses on the apartment! We lose everything!"
"Correction," I said, snapping my laptop shut and looking up at him. "You lose everything. I am filing for an immediate emergency injunction to freeze the title of this apartment based on fraudulent encumbrance."
Bernice scrambled up from the sofa, her hands clasped together in a desperate prayer. "Elena, child, please! Think of the shame! What will the neighbors say? What will our family say if Keaton and Austin are arrested?! We can work this out! You can take out a loan, pay off Apex, and Keaton can pay you back every month!"
"Pay me back with what?" I laughed bitterly. "With the paycheck he just told me he’s handing over to you? With his imaginary salary? Keaton hasn't contributed a full thousand dollars to this household in eighteen months! He’s been funneling his income directly to you so you could send it to Austin’s trading accounts!"
Keaton walked over to the front door, stood in front of it, and crossed his arms over his chest, blocking my exit.
"You’re not leaving this room until we agree on a plan to save this apartment," Keaton said, trying to sound authoritative. "We are married, Elena. You are not going to ruin my life and my family's life over a financial bump in the road."
I looked at him for three long seconds. The man I had loved. The man I had cooked for, supported, believed in, and planned a future with. Looking at him now, I saw nothing but a hollow, selfish coward who had allowed his mother and brother to bleed me dry while smiling to my face.
"Get out of my way, Keaton," I said quietly.
"No. We’re sitting down, and you’re transferring the money to Apex tonight."
I didn't argue. I didn't raise my voice. I simply pulled out my phone, pressed three numbers, and placed the phone to my ear.
"911, what’s your emergency?" the operator’s voice echoed through the speaker.
"My name is Elena Vance," I said clearly, staring straight into Keaton’s eyes. "I am currently trapped in my apartment at 454 Riverside Drive, Apartment 14B. My husband, Keaton Vance, is physically blocking my exit, refusing to let me leave, and attempting to coerce me into signing financial documents under duress. I require immediate police assistance."
Keaton’s eyes went wide with sheer terror. "Elena! Are you insane?! Hang up! Hang up right now!"
He lunged forward to grab the phone from my hand, but I stepped back quickly, dodging his grip, while shouting into the mic: "He is physically escalating! Please send an officer immediately!"
"Units are dispatched, ma'am, stay on the line," the operator replied.
Keaton backed away from me as if I were covered in acid. His hands were shaking violently. "You’re crazy... you’re absolutely out of your mind..."
"Get out," I said, pointing toward the door. "Take your mother, take her cold noodles, and get out of my home before the police arrive. Because if you are still in this apartment when the officers walk through that door, I will have you arrested for domestic unlawful restraint on top of the fraud charges."
Bernice grabbed her designer handbag—bought with the money I had sent her for "medications"—and grabbed Keaton’s arm, tugging him frantically toward the door.
"Keaton, let's go! Let's go before they lock us up! Come on!"
Keaton stared at me, his face twisted in a hideous mixture of rage, shock, and defeat. "You’ll regret this, Elena. You hear me? You’ll regret destroying this marriage!"
"The only thing I regret," I whispered as they scrambled out into the hallway, "is not serving you those cold noodles two years ago."
May you like
I pulled the heavy door shut, slammed the deadbolt into place, and hooked the security chain.
Then, for the first time that night, I sat down on the hardwood floor of my empty foyer, leaned my head against the wall, and took a deep, clear breath of fresh air.
