Chapter 7 - The Dawn of Absolute Eviction
The gray dawn broke over Lake Michigan like a bruised knuckle.
The blizzard had passed, leaving behind a frozen landscape of white and iron-cold wind that screamed through the Chicago high-rises.
Dominic had spent the night in the back of an all-night diner three blocks from the Drake Hotel, his phone battery dead, his tuxedo stained with salt and street grime.
His pride would not allow him to check into a cheap hotel, and his platinum credit cards had been rejected three times when he attempted to book a suite at the Four Seasons.
By seven in the morning, shivering, hollow-eyed, and desperate, he managed to hail a ride from an old junior associate who didn't yet know about the collapse.
The car pulled up to the private residential entrance of the 92nd-floor penthouse tower.
Dominic stepped out, pulling his damp tuxedo jacket tightly across his chest.
He took a deep breath, trying to force his trembling jaw to stabilize.
This was still his home.
His name was on the building registry.
The penthouse was his sanctuary, where he could shower, change into a clean bespoke suit, and call his personal criminal attorneys to stop Evelyn’s legal blitzkrieg.
He walked through the revolving glass doors into the marble residential lobby.
Normally, the concierge, Arthur, would bow his head and say, "Good morning, Mr. Vale, your private elevator is waiting."
Today, the lobby was silent, empty of residents, and guarded by two men Dominic had never seen before.
They were broad-shouldered, wearing dark wool trench coats with discreet golden serpent pins on their lapels.
Mercer security.
Dominic marched past them toward the private elevator bank, his face twisted into an aggressive scowl.
"Get out of my way," he snapped, reaching into his pocket for his biometric key fob.
Before he could press the call button, the larger of the two guards stepped directly in front of the elevator doors, blocking the scanner with his massive forearm.
"Dominic Vale?" the guard asked in a flat, monotone voice.
"You know who the hell I am!" Dominic yelled, his voice echoing violently off the polished marble walls.
"I own the ninety-second floor!"
"Move aside before I have you arrested for trespassing!"
The guard did not blink.
He reached into his breast pocket and produced a laminated legal injunction bearing the red seal of the Cook County Sheriff’s Department.
"At six-fifteen this morning, a court-ordered writ of ejectment was executed against you, Mr. Vale."
"The leaseholder, Mercer Real Estate Holdings, has terminated your occupancy license immediately due to insolvency and unauthorized subleasing."
"You are legally prohibited from crossing the threshold of the residential elevators."
Dominic’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes bulging as he stared at the court document.
"That’s impossible!"
"My wife is Evelyn Vale!"
"We are married!"
"A husband cannot be evicted from his marital residence without a sixty-day court hearing!"
The second guard pointed toward the street outside the glass doors.
"Your marriage was legally dissolved in private arbitration three weeks ago, Mr. Vale."
Dominic stared at him, his mind reeling.
"What did you say?"
"Under the prenuptial trust framework you signed eight years ago, your marriage was subject to a unilateral character termination clause."
"The moment you informed Mrs. Mercer last night that you intended to divorce her, the private arbitration process was triggered and finalized by the Mercer family trust’s judicial panel."
"You are no longer her husband."
"You are an unauthorized squatter on Mercer property."
"Where are my things?" Dominic screamed, tears of absolute rage and humiliation finally bursting from his eyes.
"Where are my clothes? My watches? My family heirlooms?"
The guard turned his head slightly toward the loading bay alleyway behind the lobby.
"Three commercial shipping containers were loaded at five-thirty this morning."
"They have been transported to Municipal Pier Seven, Berth Forty."
"They are currently sitting in the public holding yard under maritime lien."
"If you do not claim them within seventy-two hours, they will be auctioned off to recover unpaid building fees."
Dominic lunged forward, trying to push past the guard’s chest to reach the elevator.
"Evelyn!" he screamed toward the ceiling, his voice breaking into a ragged, pathetic howl.
"Evelyn, come down here!"
"You cannot do this to me!"
"I made you! You were nothing before me!"
The guard moved with blinding speed, catching Dominic’s right arm, twisting it behind his back, and slamming his face hard against the cold marble pillar.
Dominic let out a sharp cry of agony as his nose collided with the stone.
"If you touch this door again, Mr. Vale," the guard whispered directly into his ear, "I will not call the police."
"I will call the harbor patrol and have you fished out of the lake."
"Leave the property."
The guards shoved Dominic backward toward the revolving doors.
He stumbled out into the freezing morning wind, falling onto his hands and knees on the snowy sidewalk of Michigan Avenue.
Pedestrians hurrying to their Sunday morning routines stopped and stared at the disheveled man in a ruined tuxedo crying on the pavement.
Dominic lifted his head, blood dripping from his nose onto the white snow.
And that was when he saw the morning edition of the Chicago Tribune in the newspaper vending box three feet away.
The front page bore a massive, full-color photograph from the Meridian Gala.
Evelyn stood in the center, radiant in her sapphire gown, flanked by Richard Mercer and the Mayor.
May you like
The headline stretched across the top in bold, black ink:
"THE QUEEN OF THE HARBOR: EVELYN MERCER ASSUMES COMMAND OF CHICAGO MARITIME AS VALE HOLDINGS CRUMBLES."
