Chapter 3 - The Uninvited Guests
As I reached the front door,
the heavy oak wood felt solid and supportive under my hand.
I opened it to find two men in dark suits standing on the porch,
along with a locksmith and a local sheriff I had known since I was a child.
"Good afternoon,
Josephine,"
the sheriff said,
tipping his hat toward me.
"Are we ready?"
"Yes,
Sheriff,"
I replied,
stepping back to allow them entry into the grand hallway.
Behind me,
I could hear Jasper pushing back his chair,
his footsteps heavy and hurried as he came to see who had interrupted his meal.
"What is the meaning of this?"
he demanded,
his face turning a mottled shade of red as he saw the uniforms.
Tabitha followed close behind him,
her nose wrinkled as if she had smelled something foul.
"Josephine,
who are these people?"
she snapped,
clutching her pearls.
The locksmith didn't say a word;
he simply began to work on the deadbolt of the side door.
"Jasper,"
I said,
my voice ringing out clearly in the vaulted space.
"You were right about one thing."
"Change is coming to this house."
The sheriff stepped forward,
holding out a stack of legal documents.
"Mr. Miller,"
the sheriff said,
addressing Jasper by his last name.
"I have here a restraining order and an immediate eviction notice."
Jasper stared at the papers as if they were written in a foreign language.
"Eviction?
You can't evict me from my own home!"
he bellowed,
reaching out to grab the sheriff's arm.
The sheriff moved with practiced ease,
pinning Jasper's hand down.
"This is not your home,
sir,"
the sheriff said firmly.
"The property is owned solely by Josephine Vance."
"Our marriage—"
Jasper started to scream,
his eyes bulging with rage.
"Your marriage does not grant you title to inherited property,"
one of the men in suits interrupted,
stepping forward.
"I am Ms. Vance's attorney."
"We have filed for an immediate annulment based on the evidence of physical and emotional abuse."
Tabitha gasped,
her face turning pale.
"Abuse?
My son would never!"
"We have the video,
Tabitha,"
I said,
stepping closer to her until she was forced to look at my covered face.
"I have the recording of Jasper telling me to hide the marks you’re looking at right now."
I reached up and took a damp cloth from my pocket,
wiping away the concealer in one slow,
deliberate motion.
The dark purple bruise stood out like a brand against my skin.
The silence that followed was heavy,
broken only by the sound of the locksmith clicking the new cylinders into place.
Jasper looked from the bruise to the sheriff,
his bravado beginning to crumble into a pathetic,
shaking fear.
"Jo,
honey,
let's talk about this,"
he pleaded,
his voice cracking.
"It was a mistake,
I was stressed—"
"The mistake was mine,"
I said,
cutting him off.
"I thought you loved me,
but you only loved the ceiling height."
"Get out of my house."
The sheriff took Jasper by the shoulder,
turning him toward the door.
"You have ten minutes to gather your essentials,"
the sheriff told him.
"The rest will be delivered to your mother’s apartment in boxes."
"But I’m moving in here!"
Tabitha shrieked,
her voice reaching a fever pitch.
"Not today,"
I said,
May you like
as I watched the movers I had hired begin to carry Jasper’s suitcases out.
"And not ever."
