Chapter 39 - The Eviction Notice
I turned my gaze to Chloe. She shrank back against the cushions of the sofa, looking small, pathetic, and utterly defeated. The designer clothes, the manicured nails, the sneering entitlement that had made her sneer at my kitchen Tupperware and demand I vacate my home—all of it had melted into the terrified whimpering of a caught thief.
"Evelyn... please," Chloe whispered, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "I was scared. My family was in debt. Arthur threatened to take my parents' house... I thought if we had the money, David and I could be happy... we could raise Leo together in peace..."
"You told me that I was a burden," I said, my voice echoing through the massive penthouse. "You looked me in the eye in the kitchen I paid for, while eating the food I cooked, and told me that my time was up. You told my son to choose between his mother and his child."
"I was wrong! I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want!" she sobbed, dropping to her knees on the marble floor. "David, please! I'm his mother! You can't take Leo away from me!"
David looked down at her. There was no rage in his eyes. There was only a profound, cold pity—the way one looks at a stranger who has completely destroyed their own life.
"You gave up being his mother when you put a price tag on his head, Chloe," David said quietly. "The custody petition has already been filed with the federal court. You will have supervised visitation when Leo is eighteen, if he decides he wants to see you. Until then, you will serve whatever sentence the Southern District of New York hands down for wire fraud and conspiracy to commit extortion."
The federal marshals stepped forward, their cuffs clicking in the silent room.
One agent secured Arthur Vance's wrists behind his back while another took Chloe by the arms, lifting her from the floor as she wailed, thrashing against their grip.
"David! David, look at me! Evelyn, please! Don't let them take me!"
Her screams faded down the hallway as the private elevator doors sealed shut behind them.
The penthouse was suddenly, mercifully quiet.
I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, looking out over the endless grid of Manhattan. David walked up beside me, holding Leo against his chest. The baby had fallen sound asleep, his tiny hands curled against David's lapel.
"It's over, Mom," David whispered, leaning his head gently against my shoulder. "The house is ours. The family is safe."
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"It's not over, David," Frank said from behind us. His voice was taut, stripped of triumph.
We turned. Frank was staring at the encrypted satellite tablet on the desk. A red warning light was pulsing rapidly on the terminal.
