Chapter 2 - The Sixty-Day Notice
The penthouse suite on the forty-second floor of the hotel was supposed to be a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooked the glittering city grid, the distant bridges arching over black water like strings of diamond dust.
At 6:15 AM, the sanctuary cracked.
The heavy brass knocker on the suite’s mahogany door slammed once, twice, three times, rattling the frame with frantic, violent energy.
I sat bolt upright in bed, the silk sheets tangling around my waist. Daniel was already out of bed, pulling on a dark cashmere robe with practiced economy of movement. He pressed a button on the bedside console, checking the security feed displayed on the wall monitor.
My mother stood in the hallway outside.
She wasn't in her regal mother-of-the-bride gown anymore. She was wearing oversized sunglasses, a trench coat cinched aggressively around her waist, and a pair of running sneakers. Behind her leaned a man I hadn't seen at the wedding: Marcus, Chloe’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, a thirty-year-old club promoter with slicked-back hair, an eagle tattoo creeping up his throat, and a reputation for unpaid debts.
“Don’t open it,” I whispered, my chest tightening. “Daniel, please.”
“I’m not letting them in, Mia,” Daniel said calmly, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Stay here.”
He walked to the foyer. I threw on a robe and followed him, hovering near the arched entryway. When Daniel unlocked the door and pulled it open three inches, keeping the heavy interior security latch engaged, the sound of Mom’s voice slashed through the gap.
“Open this door right now, Daniel! We need to settle this before the banks open!”
“Mrs. Mercer,” Daniel said, his voice flat and bored. “It is six in the morning. If you don't remove yourself from this floor in sixty seconds, hotel security will escort you to the curb.”
“Let us in!” she hissed, pressing her face against the crack. Her eyes behind the dark lenses looked wild, manic. “Chloe is having a panic attack! Marcus’s car was impounded last night because of the scene you made at the reception, and Chloe needs reliable transportation to get to her interview this morning! Give us the keys to the SUV. We will bring it back by Friday!”
Behind her, Marcus leaned into the frame, chewing gum with aggressive nonchalance. “Look, bro. It’s bad form to hoard two vehicles when your new family’s hurting. Just toss the fob. I’ll make sure there’s not a scratch on it.”
Daniel stared at Marcus for three agonizing seconds. “Marcus Drake. Convicted of wire fraud in 2021, three outstanding civil warrants for non-payment of commercial leases in King County. If you step within ten feet of my wife or my property again, I will have the district attorney’s office expedite the enforcement of those warrants by noon.”
Marcus stopped chewing. His eyes darted to Mom, all his swagger evaporating into a nervous twitch. “Wait. What did he say?”
“Shut up, Marcus!” Mom spat, then turned back to Daniel. “You think you’re so smart with your background checks? You ruined Chloe’s life last night! She hasn't stopped crying! She’s your sister-in-law, Daniel! What kind of monster refuses to help his own wife’s flesh and blood?”
I stepped forward, stepping past Daniel until I was looking directly through the crack into her face. “Mom.”
She blinked, surprised to see me. Then her face morphed into that familiar, suffocating expression of theatrical sorrow. “Mia! Baby! Tell him! Tell this man how much your sister means to you! You know how delicate Chloe is. You know how hard things have been for her since she left school. You have everything now—look at this suite! Look at that ring! Are you really going to let your little sister suffer out of sheer spite?”
“Chloe is twenty-four years old,” I said, and to my own shock, my voice didn't crack. “She has never held a job for more than three months. She crashed Dad’s sedan two years ago and made me take the blame on the insurance claim so her rates wouldn't go up. She took eighty thousand dollars of my college tuition.”
“That was a loan!” Mom shouted.
“You never intended to pay it back,” I said. “And neither did she. Take Marcus and get out of this hotel.”
“If you don't give me those keys,” Mom whispered, her tone turning low and curdled, “I will go to the press. I know reporters at the *Daily Herald*. I will tell them that the grand Vance family leaves their new daughter-in-law’s elderly parents on the street while they flaunt their stolen millions. I’ll ruin your husband’s firm before the opening bell on Monday.”
Daniel didn't even blink. He reached into his pocket, retrieved his phone, and tapped the screen twice.
“Chief Evans?” he said smoothly into the mic. “Yes, forty-second floor. Room 4202. There are two individuals trespassing outside my suite. One is Richard Mercer’s wife, and the second is an individual named Marcus Drake, who has outstanding county warrants. Please have four armed guards remove them and notify the precinct for immediate pickup.”
Mom gasped. “You wouldn't dare!”
“Fifty seconds remaining, Mrs. Mercer,” Daniel said.
He closed the heavy mahogany door and turned the deadbolt with a clean, solid *click*.
From the other side, we heard Mom’s frantic pounding, followed by Marcus’s panicked voice: “Yo, Trish, we gotta bounce. The cops here don't mess around, come on!”
Footsteps scrambled down the carpeted hallway toward the elevators. Then, absolute silence returned.
I stood in the center of the marble foyer, my fingers gripping the lapels of my robe until my knuckles turned chalk white. Daniel stepped behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, anchoring me against his chest.
“She’s not going to stop,” I whispered, staring down at the polished stone floor. “You don't know her, Daniel. When she can’t control you, she tries to burn the house down with you inside it.”
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“Let her try,” Daniel said softly against my hair. “She’s bringing matches to an ocean, Mia. Let her burn whatever she wants. She will only incinerate herself.”
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