Chapter 5 - The Snake's Counterstrike"Assault?!" I shouted, jumping out of my chair. "She’s lying! You were there, Marcus! You and your partner walked them out!"
"I know that, Ethan, and I’m writing my official report right now," Marcus said quickly. "But her lawyer is Arthur Vance—your uncle. He’s sharp, he’s dirty, and he knows how to manipulate the court system. They’ve already submitted photos of bruises on Brittany’s arm and Teresa’s wrist."
"They made those up!" I slammed my fist against the wall. "They’re trying to set me up!"
"Listen to me," Marcus instructed calmly. "Because of the restraining order application, the judge granted a temporary emergency injunction. That means you are legally barred from returning to your apartment until the hearing on Monday morning. If you go near that property, you will be arrested on the spot."
"Wait... what about my things? My baby’s things?!"
"They’re changing the locks right now, Ethan," Marcus said softly. "Uncle Arthur brought a locksmith. They claim Teresa is a legal tenant because she’s lived there over thirty days."
I felt like the ground had opened up and swallowed me whole.
They had stolen my life savings. They had blackmailed my wife. And now, using corrupt legal loopholes, they had stolen my home, leaving my newborn son with nowhere to go when he came out of the NICU.
I looked at Emily. Her face was deathly pale, her hands shaking as she listened to the speakerphone.
"Marcus," I said, my voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet whisper. "Is there any way to stop them legally before Monday?"
"Not before the court hearing," Marcus admitted. "Unless... you can prove financial fraud severe enough to trigger an immediate federal bench warrant. But for that, you need hard bank records, signature samples, and the IP addresses used for the illegal wire transfers."
"Where would those records be?"
"In the master bedroom closet," Emily suddenly spoke up, her eyes fierce. "Ethan... in the metal lockbox under the desk. Teresa kept all her fake credit applications and bank passbooks in there. She thinks no one knows the combination."
"What's the combination, Emily?" I asked.
"0-8-1-2. Your birthday," she replied. "She used your birthday for everything."
I turned back to the phone. "Marcus, if I can get those documents tonight, can you arrest her before Monday?"
"If you give me clear proof of identity theft over ten thousand dollars, it becomes a Class 2 felony," Marcus stated. "I can get a search warrant signed by an emergency judge within two hours. But Ethan—you CANNOT go back into that apartment yourself. If they see you, you go to jail for violating the temporary order."
"I won't go near it," I promised.
I hung up the phone. My mind was racing. If I couldn't go into the apartment, how was I going to get that lockbox?
Suddenly, my phone screen lit up with a notification from a security app I had installed six months ago—a small, hidden motion-detector camera I had hidden inside a smoke detector in the living room after a string of package thefts in the building.
I opened the live feed on my phone.
The stream loaded.
My mother, Brittany, Kayla, and Uncle Arthur were sitting around my dining room table. On the table were stacks of cash, open bottles of champagne, and my late father’s lockbox.
They were celebrating.
I tapped the audio button to listen to their conversation.
"I can't believe that idiot really fell for it," Brittany laughed, sipping champagne from one of my wedding glasses. "He actually left the building! Now we get the apartment for at least two months until the eviction process clears!"
"Forget the apartment," Uncle Arthur sneered, leaning back in his chair. "The real money is in the insurance policy."
I froze. Insurance policy?
Teresa smiled a sick, twisted smile as she pulled a thick document out of her purse. "Ethan has a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy through his warehouse union. And guess who he forgot to remove as the primary beneficiary when he got married?"
My blood ran cold.
May you like
My mother held up the insurance document, pointing to her own name signed at the bottom.
"He thinks he’s so tough," Teresa chuckled, taking a long drink. "Little does he know, if anything happens to him during those long, dangerous night shifts at the warehouse... we take everything."
