Chapter 3 - A Dinner Served Cold
Demi opened the front door to find a man in a dark suit holding a stack of papers.
"Demi Vance?"
he asked,
his expression professional and detached.
"Yes,"
she replied,
taking the documents from his hand.
"Thank you."
She walked back into the dining room,
the papers crinkling in her grip.
Philip was standing now,
his face a mask of desperation.
"Demi,
honey,
let’s just talk about this,"
he pleaded,
reaching out to touch her arm.
She stepped back,
avoiding his touch as if he were a carrier of a deadly plague.
"There is nothing left to talk about,
Philip,"
she said,
tossing the first set of papers onto the table.
"These are the divorce papers,
filed on the grounds of adultery and emotional abuse."
Glenda let out a theatrical gasp,
clutching her chest.
"Abuse?
How dare you!
We have been nothing but kind to you!"
Demi ignored her,
turning her focus entirely on Philip.
"And these,"
she said,
dropping the second set of papers,
"are the eviction notices for both of you."
Philip laughed,
a hollow,
forced sound.
"Eviction?
Demi,
you’ve lost your mind.
This is my apartment.
My name is on the deed."
"Yes,"
Demi agreed,
her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Your name is on the deed,
alongside mine."
"But let’s talk about where the money came from,
shall we?"
She pulled out the signed letter Philip had written three years ago.
"This is your signed acknowledgment that the $145,000 down payment came entirely from my inheritance."
"And this,"
she continued,
showing a bank statement,
"is the proof of the wire transfer from my grandmother’s estate."
Philip’s bravado began to crumble,
his shoulders sagging.
"So what?"
he snapped,
trying to regain his footing.
"It was a gift to the marriage."
"Actually,
no,"
Demi countered,
her eyes flashing with triumph.
"In this state,
inheritance remains separate property unless commingled."
"But since you used my money to buy a property while maintaining a secret life,"
"my attorney has already filed a motion to sequester your portion of the equity as restitution."
Glenda stood up,
her chair screeching against the floor.
"You can't kick me out!
I’m an old woman!
I have nowhere to go!"
"You can go to the lake house,"
Demi suggested,
her tone mocking.
"Oh,
wait,
you can't."
"Because I’ve already placed a lien on that property as well."
"Since it was purchased with 'marital funds' that you diverted from our joint account,"
"funds that were primarily comprised of my salary while you were 'searching for yourself'."
Philip looked like he was about to vomit.
"Demi,
please,
you’re being irrational.
We can fix this."
"Fix what,
Philip?"
she asked,
her voice cold.
"Fix the fact that you let your mother throw a pot at my head this morning?"
"Fix the fact that you’ve been sleeping with another woman in the house I paid for?"
"Fix the fact that you haven't contributed a single cent to this household in eighteen months?"
She leaned over the table,
her face inches from his.
"You are a parasite,
Philip."
"And your mother is a venomous old woman who has lived off my hard work for too long."
"The locks will be changed in exactly one hour."
"I’ve already called a moving company to pack your things."
"They’re waiting downstairs."
"If you aren't out by then,
the police will be called to escort you for trespassing."
Glenda began to wail,
a high-pitched,
annoying sound that filled the room.
"Philip,
do something!
She can't do this!"
Philip looked at his mother,
then back at Demi.
He saw the paramedic,
the woman who had seen the worst of humanity and survived.
He realized,
far too late,
that he was just another emergency she was clearing from her life.
"I hate you,"
he hissed,
the mask of the loving husband finally slipping away.
"I know,"
Demi replied,
unfazed.
"But you’ll hate being poor even more."
She checked her watch,
the one she had bought for herself to mark her thirty-second birthday.
"Fifty-five minutes,
May you like
Philip."
"I suggest you start with the bedroom."
