Chapter 5 - Moving Day on Elm StreetMonday morning arrived with the steady rumble of a heavy-duty moving truck idling in the driveway of the Elm Street estate.
I wasn't there in person—I had no desire to witness Gwendolyn’s hysterics firsthand. Instead, I sent Arthur Vance’s supervising legal associate, along with a pair of county sheriff’s deputies, to oversee the eviction and inventory process, ensuring that none of my mother’s original heirlooms, antiques, or personalized furnishings were damaged or stolen during the frantic exodus.
From my remote security feeds, I watched the spectacle unfold like a tragicomedy.
Gwendolyn looked like a woman who had aged ten years over the weekend. Her hair was unbrushed, her designer sunglasses failing to hide the dark circles under her eyes, and her hands shook violently as she directed two exhausted movers to throw her remaining clothes into black trash bags.
Chloe was sitting on the front lawn atop a stack of cardboard boxes, staring blankly into space, her social-media aspirations brutally crushed by the cold reality of property law.
My father stood on the porch, shoulders slumped, looking smaller and weaker than I had ever seen him. He tried to speak to the sheriff’s deputy, attempting one last pathetic appeal for an extension, but the deputy simply pointed toward the moving truck and handed him a final inventory sign-off sheet.
By 1:30 PM, the moving truck doors were slammed shut and bolted.
Gwendolyn’s luxury SUV was crammed to the roof with oversized suitcases, lamps, and framed portraits of herself, looking like a refugee camp on four wheels.
As the vehicles finally pulled out of the circular driveway and disappeared down the street, an overwhelming wave of physical relief washed over me. The house was empty. The squatters were gone. The invaders had been swept out of the sanctuary my mother had built.
An hour later, Arthur Vance called me with the final update.
“The property has been officially surrendered, Paige,” Arthur said, sounding thoroughly pleased. “The locks have been changed by our locksmith, the security system codes have been completely reset to your master biometric profile, and our cleaning crew is scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning to sanitize the place from top to bottom.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” I said, closing my eyes as I leaned back in my office chair. “What about my father?”
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“He and Gwendolyn have checked into a mid-range extended-stay hotel off the highway,” Arthur noted dryly. “And your stepsister’s social media accounts appear to have gone completely dark.”
“Good. Let them figure out what it’s like to live in the real world.”
