Chapter 2 - The House of CardsBy 9:00 a.m. the next morning, I was sitting at a corner table in the hotel’s executive lounge, drinking black coffee and reviewing my portfolio on a brand-new tablet I had purchased at an early-bird electronics store.
My phone remained off, but my temporary burner phone—set up exclusively for legal communications—vibrated against the tabletop. It was Victoria.
“Good morning, Claire,” Victoria’s crisp, authoritative voice came through the speaker. “I received your midnight transmission. Let me just say, looking at the financial disclosures and asset mapping you provided, your husband and his relatives have been living like absolute royalty on your dime.”
“Is the asset freeze in place?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee.
“As of 8:30 this morning,” Victoria replied with a hint of satisfaction. “All joint checking accounts have been locked pending legal division. The home equity line of credit—which your husband secretly opened using a forged signature on a spousal consent form, by the way—has been frozen under suspicion of wire fraud. Furthermore, the commercial truck leases that Mark uses for his landscaping side-hustle, which were backed by your corporate credit rating? Cancelled. Default notices have already been dispatched.”
A cold, sweet thrill of vindication washed over me. “And the household bills?”
“Electricity, water, gas, and internet are all registered under your maiden name and corporate billing profile. I’ve already submitted the transfer-of-service and cancellation requests. By noon today, that house will be dark, cold, and disconnected.”
Victoria paused, letting out a small chuckle. “Shall I have the process server deliver the eviction notice and the divorce petition to the property today, or would you like to savor the suspense?”
“Serve them today,” I said smoothly. “Let them see what happens when the foundation is pulled out from under a house built on sand.”
Back at the suburban estate, however, my absence had not yet triggered panic—it had only triggered annoyance.
According to the smart-home security alerts that I still had administrative access to on my cloud dashboard, Eric had tried to use my credit card at a local coffee shop around 8:15 a.m., only to find it declined. Ten minutes later, Diane had tried to use the pantry grocery account, which was linked to my corporate perks card. Declined.
By 11:45 a.m., the doorbell of the house rang.
Through the front porch camera feed, I watched Mark open the door in his sweatpants, scratching his stomach, expecting a package. Instead, he was greeted by a tall, imposing process server holding a thick stack of legal documents encased in transparent plastic folders.
“Delivery for Eric Ross, Diane Ross, and Mark Ross,” the server announced loudly, thrusting the papers into Mark’s chest before handing him a separate envelope.
On my screen, I watched Mark squint at the top page. I couldn't hear the exact words, but I saw the color drain from his face. The words Summons for Dissolution of Marriage, Notice of Asset Freeze, Eviction and Writ of Possession, and Demand for Immediate Repayment of Personal Loans tended to have a very sobering effect on freeloaders.
Within ninety seconds, my burner phone began ringing incessantly.
May you like
I ignored Eric’s call. Then Diane’s call. Then Mark’s call.
Instead, I opened a spreadsheet, began calculating my projected quarterly savings now unburdened by their expenses, and smiled at the glowing screen. The house of cards wasn't just shaking; it was about to implode.
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