Chapter 4 - Midnight Eviction
The Uber ride back to the upscale downtown high-rise was a masterclass in toxic recrimination. Because none of Brandon’s cards worked, Courtney had been forced to pay for the ride using her own emergency savings—a humiliation she loudly blamed Brandon for every single mile of the trip. Adelaide spent the entire twenty-minute journey crying about how her reputation in Chicago high society had been permanently ruined by "that ungrateful, low-class girl Brandon married."
When the cab finally pulled up to the curb outside their luxury building, Brandon stepped out into the chilly Chicago night air, his head pounding. He walked up to the grand glass double doors of the lobby, pulled his key fob from his pocket, and pressed the proximity button.
Click.
The door remained locked. The security light above the reader flashed a harsh, unyielding red.
"Well? Open the door, genius," Courtney snapped, shivering in her thin red dress. "It's freezing out here."
Brandon swiped his physical key card through the side panel.
BEEP. ACCESS REVOKED.
Frowning, Brandon marched up to the night concierge desk inside the glass doors. The security guard, a middle-aged man named Marcus who had known Brandon and Elena for years, looked up from his desk. Instead of buzzing them in, Marcus stood up and walked over to the glass partition, sliding open the small talk window just an inch.
"Evening, Mr. Miller," Marcus said, his tone entirely devoid of its usual warm hospitality.
"Marcus, open the door," Brandon demanded, pulling on the brass handle. "The system is acting up. My key fob isn't registering."
Marcus gave a slow, somber shake of his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Miller. My instructions are very clear."
"Instructions from who?" Adelaide shrieked, pushing past Brandon and pressing her face against the glass. "Do you know who we are? We own a penthouse unit on the forty-second floor! Open this door right now or I'll have your license revoked!"
"My instructions came directly from the building’s primary property trust and legal counsel, Mrs. Miller," Marcus replied calmly. "Effective 10:00 PM tonight, Unit 4202 has been placed under exclusive court-ordered injunction. Furthermore, the master lease and ownership deed are held entirely in Mrs. Elena Miller’s sole name. Per the emergency eviction and restraining order served to our management office twenty minutes ago, you, Mr. Brandon Miller, and your immediate family members are legally barred from entering the premises."
Brandon felt the ground drop out from beneath his feet. "An eviction? That's impossible! I live there! My name is on the mailbox!"
"Your name was removed from the building directory at 10:05 PM, sir," Marcus said, pulling a manila envelope from beneath his desk and holding it up to the glass. "Here is your formal notice of temporary removal, along with a schedule for when you may coordinate with a court-appointed bailiff to retrieve your personal clothing and toiletries within the next forty-eight hours. Beyond that, you are legally trespassing."
Adelaide lost her mind. She began banging her fists against the thick glass, screaming obscenities that echoed off the marble lobby walls. Courtney was frantically trying to call local divorce lawyers on her phone, only to discover that her own phone service had just been restricted due to a family plan audit initiated by the primary account holder—Elena.
Brandon stood back on the sidewalk, staring up at the towering monolith of glass and steel where his home, his clothes, his luxury watch collection, and his entire comfortable existence resided.
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He was wearing a three-thousand-dollar Tom Ford suit, a designer watch worth more than a used car, and he didn't have a single dollar in his pocket, a place to sleep, or a vehicle to drive.
He was completely, utterly homeless.
