Chapter 9 - Lorraine's Pathetic Return To The Fortress
The doorbell chimed aggressively,
a continuous,
demanding,
and highly irritating sound that shattered my peaceful morning routine as I poured myself a fresh cup of dark roast coffee.
I walked over to the security monitor mounted on the kitchen wall,
feeling a wave of intense disgust wash over me as I saw Lorraine standing on my front porch,
hammering her fist against my heavy oak door.
She was accompanied by a cheap,
slick-haired attorney holding a battered leather briefcase,
looking incredibly uncomfortable as he stood behind the raging,
entitled woman.
Lorraine looked disheveled,
still wearing the ridiculous floral clothes she had been forced to leave in last night,
her normally perfect hair frazzled,
her arrogant posture replaced by a desperate,
jittery,
and frantic energy.
I unlocked the deadbolt,
swinging the door open just enough to look at them,
leaving the heavy chain securely fastened to ensure they could not force their way inside.
"Let me in right this second,"
Lorraine demanded,
her voice shrill and grating,
trying to push her bony hand through the crack in the door to undo the chain herself.
"Step back,"
I commanded,
my voice sharp as a whip,
causing the cheap lawyer to flinch and immediately pull Lorraine back by the sleeve of her jacket.
"My client is here to retrieve her personal belongings,
and to establish her legal right to reside in this property as a registered guest of her son,"
the lawyer stated,
puffing out his chest,
trying to sound intimidating despite his terrible suit.
I burst out laughing,
a genuine,
loud,
and highly amused laugh that echoed across the porch,
making Lorraine's face turn a violent,
angry shade of purple.
"Her son is currently facing a decade in federal prison,
and he has absolutely no legal right,
ownership,
or claim to this property,"
I informed the clueless lawyer,
sliding a piece of paper through the crack in the door.
"That is a certified copy of the property deed,
and attached to it is a temporary restraining order signed by a judge exactly one hour ago,
barring both Daniel and Lorraine Vance from coming within five hundred feet of this estate."
The lawyer's eyes widened in horror as he read the official court documents,
realizing instantly that Lorraine had completely lied to him about the situation,
and that he was currently standing on the property of a very wealthy,
very angry,
and very legally protected woman.
"You evil,
vindictive little witch,"
Lorraine screamed,
spitting her words at me,
losing the last tiny shred of her fake aristocratic dignity.
"If you do not leave my porch in exactly five seconds,"
I warned,
my eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying intensity,
"I will press the silent alarm,
the police will return,
and you can share a cell with your precious,
abusive son."
The lawyer grabbed Lorraine by the arm,
dragging the screaming,
kicking,
and sobbing woman down the driveway toward his beat-up sedan,
while my wealthy neighbors peaked through their curtains,
May you like
watching the magnificent,
humiliating downfall of the Vance family in broad daylight.
