Chapter 3 - The Lavish Lake House Party on Stolen Ground
While I was being discharged from the hospital into the care of a private nurse at a boutique hotel in downtown Dallas, Colin and Judith were already making themselves at home at Heron Lake.
To Judith Mercer, the lake house was the crown jewel she had coveted since the day Colin married me.
Nestled on four acres of pristine shoreline, with five thousand square feet of cedar-and-stone architecture, floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass, a private boat dock, and a heated infinity pool overlooking the water, the property was easily valued at four point five million dollars.
Assuming my hospital stay and physical rehabilitation would keep me incapacitated for weeks, Judith wasted no time establishing her dominance.
By Saturday evening, less than two weeks after shoving me onto the cellar floor, Judith and Colin threw an extravagant "Welcome to the Lake" cocktail party for thirty of their closest country-club acquaintances.
Valet attendants parked luxury sedans along the private gravel drive. Caterers carried silver trays of bacon-wrapped scallops and vintage champagne across the expansive cedar deck.
Judith held court by the stone fireplace, dressed in an expensive emerald silk caftan she had purchased with money Colin had drained from our joint checking account.
"Colin and I decided it was time for a fresh start," Judith announced to a circle of admiring socialites, raising her crystal flute. "Rachel simply never appreciated the historic grandeur of this estate. It takes a certain refinement to truly care for a home of this caliber."
"And the divorce?" asked Evelyn, one of Judith’s longtime bridge partners.
Colin smiled, swirling a glass of twenty-year-old single-malt scotch that he had taken from my grandfather's locked private cellar. "Everything is progressing smoothly. The property was an equitable marital asset. My legal team is finalizing the paperwork to transfer the primary deed into a Mercer family holding company."
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None of the guests knew that every conversation, every toast, and every glass of champagne was being recorded in crisp 1080p by the discreet security nodes integrated into the cedar rafters.
And none of them knew that sixty miles away, inside the high-rise offices of Reeves & Associates, Dana Reeves was printing out thirty certified copies of Article Fourteen.
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