Chapter 7 - SEVENTY-TWO HOURS EXPIRED
At 7:00 a.m. on Thursday, a thick morning mist hung low over the manicured lawn of the Great Falls estate.
The front gates of the ten-million-dollar property were wide open. Parked along the curb were two large commercial moving vans, accompanied by three marked cruisers from the Fairfax County Sheriff’s Department.
Ethan was standing in the marble driveway in a pair of wrinkled khakis and a dirty fleece jacket, clutching two cardboard boxes containing his golf trophies and designer shoes. He looked completely broken—a ghost of the arrogant prince who had dismissed his wife four days earlier.
Margaret had arrived in a taxi, having refused to believe the eviction was real until she saw the uniform of Sheriff Deputy Miller posted at the front entrance.
“You cannot do this!” Margaret screamed, her voice echoing down the tranquil, multi-million-dollar neighborhood, drawing neighbors out onto their balconies in their bathrobes. “This is an outrage! I demand to see the presiding magistrate! My family has lived in Virginia for six generations!”
Deputy Miller, a veteran law enforcement officer with twenty years on the force, stood with his arms folded across his tactical vest, entirely unimpressed.
“Ma’am, the eviction order was signed by Judge Thornton yesterday at 1600 hours,” the deputy said calmly. “The property owner, Blue Ridge Asset Holdings, has requested the immediate execution of the writ of possession. You have sixty minutes to finish removing personal items. Anything left inside after eight o’clock becomes property of the trust.”
“Property of the trust?” Ethan shrieked, dropping his box of trophies, sending silver cups rolling across the asphalt. “She stole this house! She manipulated the contracts!”
“Sir, pick up your items and move them to the curb,” the deputy instructed, his hand resting casually near his utility belt.
At that moment, a sleek, dark-blue Audi sedan pulled slowly into the driveway.
The driver’s door opened, and Howard Croft stepped out, holding a clipboard and a set of master electronic keycards. Behind him, two locksmiths carrying power tools stepped out of an unmarked van.
Ethan lunged toward Howard. “You! You bloodsucking parasite! You planned this! You and Claire—!”
Deputy Miller immediately stepped between Ethan and the attorney, his hand coming up firmly against Ethan’s chest. “Step back, sir! Final warning.”
Howard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, looking at Ethan with clinical detachment.
“Good morning, Mr. Sterling. Mrs. Sterling,” Howard said politely. “I am here to oversee the final turnover of the residence. As of eight o’clock, the biometric access codes on all perimeter doors, smart-home servers, and safe vaults will be reprogrammed.”
“Where is she?” Ethan demanded, his voice cracking into a desperate sob. “Where is Claire? Why isn't she here to face me? Tell her to come here and look me in the eye!”
Howard looked at Ethan with mild pity.
“Colonel Montgomery is currently chairing a joint logistics strategy session at the Pentagon,” Howard said smoothly. “She has far more significant matters to attend to than watching you pack your shoes.”
“She’s my wife!” Ethan yelled. “We’re still married!”
“Not for long,” Howard replied. He pulled a fresh, sealed legal document from his leather portfolio and handed it directly to Ethan.
Ethan stared down at the bold lettering across the top of the first page:
**IN THE CIRCUIT COURT OF FAIRFAX COUNTY, VIRGINIA**
**PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE AND SOLE LEGAL AND PHYSICAL CUSTODY**
**PLAINTIFF: CLAIRE MONTGOMERY STERLING**
**DEFENDANT: ETHAN RICHARD STERLING**
“Sole custody?” Ethan whispered, his knees finally giving out. He sank to the damp grass of the lawn, the paper fluttering in his trembling fingers. “She’s taking Noah? No... no, she can’t take my son!”
“You have twenty-one days to file a response, Mr. Sterling,” Howard said. “Though given the pending federal indictment from the Department of Justice regarding the Phase Three escrow accounts, I suspect your legal priorities will be somewhat occupied elsewhere.”
Margaret let out a piercing shriek, clutching her chest as she collapsed onto the hood of the taxi. “An indictment? Richard! Where is Richard?!”
“Your husband is currently meeting with federal prosecutors in Alexandria, Mrs. Sterling,” Howard added coolly. “I suggest you join him. The locksmiths are beginning their work.”
The high-pitched whine of an electric drill echoed across the courtyard as the master locks on the mahogany doors were replaced.
May you like
Ethan sat on the grass of the home he had claimed as his own, watching the movers carry out the last pieces of his vanity, the blue court petition lying in the dirt beside him like a monument to his complete ruin.
***
