Chapter 5 - The Mother’s Fall
Eleanor Miller had always prided herself on her composure.
She was a woman who believed that wealth was a shield against the vulgarities of the world.
But as she stood on the snow-covered porch,
shivering in her thin slippers,
that shield was shattering into a million pieces.
The police were not being "polite."
They were not being "deferential" to her status as a pillar of the community.
They were moving her aside as they began to carry out boxes of files from Carter’s office.
"You can't do this!"
she shrieked,
her voice cracking in the cold air.
"Do you know who we are?
Do you know who my late husband was?"
The lead investigator,
a woman with a no-nonsense bun and a badge that gleamed in the sun,
didn't even look up.
"Ma'am,
the name on the deed of this house is Clara Langston."
"The court has issued an immediate protective order."
"You and your son have ten minutes to gather your personal items."
"Anything else will be inventoried and held by the state."
Vanessa was standing behind them,
looking terrified.
She was a girl who had chased the money,
not the man,
and she could see the money evaporating like mist.
"Carter,
do something!"
she hissed,
clutching her red dress closed.
Carter was staring at the papers in his hand,
his mind clearly racing to find a way out.
"It’s a mistake,"
he stammered.
"My lawyer will have this cleared up in an hour."
"This is just some stunt her father is pulling."
He looked at the police officer.
"Her father is a nobody!
He’s a mechanic who lives in a shack!"
The officer,
who had served in the 101st Airborne and knew exactly who Everett Langston was,
smiled thinly.
"That 'nobody' just handed the District Attorney twenty years' worth of your tax returns,
Mr. Miller."
"And he also provided a very detailed list of your offshore shell companies."
"I wouldn't worry about the house right now if I were you."
"I'd worry about the federal warrant that’s being signed as we speak."
Eleanor gasped,
reaching for the porch railing to steady herself.
The reality of the situation was finally sinking in.
They weren't just being evicted.
They were being dismantled.
Every secret,
every lie,
and every bit of cruelty they had inflicted on me was being used as a weapon against them.
And the man holding the sword was the one they had laughed at for years.
Back at the farmhouse,
my father turned off the monitor.
"Phase one is complete,"
he said.
"Now,
May you like
we go to the bank."
"I want to see the look on his face when he realizes he can't even pay for a taxi."
