Chapter 4 - The Paperwork War
While Luca was arguing with a restaurant manager in Miami,
a different kind of storm was brewing in Colorado.
Phoebe had activated what she called "The Scorched Earth Protocol."
It wasn't just about the house.
It was about the entire ecosystem of Luca’s life.
We sat in the dimly lit office of Evelyn’s home,
the glow of multiple monitors illuminating our faces.
“I’ve contacted the Department of Motor Vehicles,”
Phoebe said,
her fingers dancing across the keys.
“The Porsche,
the Range Rover,
and the vintage motorcycle are all registered under your holding company.
I’ve reported them as 'unauthorized use by an employee.'”
I watched the digital map on the screen.
The GPS on the Range Rover—the one Luca’s sister had been driving—showed it parked at a trendy gym in South Boulder.
“Report it,”
I said.
“Have the repo team pick it up tonight.
I want her to walk home in the dark.”
“Consider it done,”
Phoebe replied.
“Now,
about the 'employment.'”
Luca had been a "consultant" for my firm for three years.
It was a title I gave him to save his pride,
a role that required nothing but a monthly paycheck and a decent suit.
I pulled up his contract.
“There’s a morality clause,”
I noted,
pointing to a paragraph buried in the fine print.
“Any action that brings disrepute to the company or its principal owner is grounds for immediate termination without severance.”
“Locking the owner out of her own home while she recovers from surgery?”
Phoebe asked,
a smirk playing on her lips.
“I’d say that qualifies as 'disrepute.'”
I hit the 'send' button on the prepared email.
Luca was now officially unemployed.
His health insurance,
his dental,
his life insurance—all tied to the company—were being severed.
It was a surgical strike.
I was removing him from my life one line of code at a time.
“What about the personal belongings?”
Evelyn asked,
walking in with a fresh pot of coffee.
“His clothes.
His mother’s things.
Stephanie’s 'art' collection.”
I looked at the clock.
It was 2:00 AM.
“The new owners take possession at 10:00 AM,”
I said.
“The contract states the house must be 'broom clean.'
However,
anything left on the premises after the deed is recorded becomes the property of the buyer.”
I paused,
thinking of the custom-made suits I had bought him.
The watches.
The shoes.
“I’ve already contacted a high-end estate liquidation service,”
I continued.
“They are meeting the security team at the house at dawn.
Everything that isn't bolted down and doesn't belong to me is being cataloged and moved to a storage unit in the industrial district.”
“And the key to the unit?”
Evelyn asked.
“I’ll mail it to his mother’s old apartment,”
I said.
“The one they’re about to be evicted from since I’m stopping the rent payments on that,
too.”
I felt a twinge of something—not guilt,
but a recognition of the sheer scale of the destruction I was wreaking.
Then,
I looked at the bruising on my arm from where the IV had been.
I thought of the cold rain on the porch.
I thought of how he didn't even check to see if Lily had enough milk before he left.
The twinge vanished.
“He thought I was a soft target because I was a mother,”
I said,
my voice hardening.
“He forgot that a mother is the most dangerous thing in nature when her nest is threatened.”
Phoebe looked up from her screen.
“The buyer has just signed.
The wire has cleared.
The house is no longer yours,
Jessi.”
I felt a strange sense of relief.
The mansion was a beautiful cage.
Now,
I was free.
And Luca?
Luca was about to come home to a house that didn't know his name,
at a curb where his cars no longer sat,
in a life where his cards no longer worked.
“Go to sleep,
Jessi,”
Evelyn said softly,
placing a hand on my shoulder.
“You’ve done enough for tonight.”
“No,”
I said,
opening one last file.
“There’s still the matter of the custody filing.
I want him to have to pass a drug test and a psychological evaluation before he even sees a photo of my daughter again.”
May you like
The war wasn't over.
It was just moving to a new theater.
