Chapter 4 - The Sound of Shattering GlassThe next morning broke clear and brutal. At precisely 8:15 AM, my phone began to ring incessantly. It was Michael. I let it ring. Then came a barrage of texts.
Michael: What the hell is going on?! My key fob isn't working for the elevator! The security guard won't let me past the lobby! He says we’ve been evicted?!
Michael: Answer me, Penelope! My mother is in her pajamas in the lobby and people are staring! The power in the apartment just went out! This is a corporate apartment from my job, they can't do this!
Michael: PENELOPE!
I quietly poured myself a cup of black coffee, enjoying the silence of the Paradise Valley terrace. My mother joined me, looking rested but anxious. She saw the phone vibrating on the table.
“Is that him?” she asked softly.
“It’s the sound of reality hitting him, Mom,” I said, taking a sip. “Eat your breakfast. We have a meeting downtown at ten.”
At 9:30 AM, Arthur Pendelton called. “The divorce petition has been successfully filed and recorded, Penelope. The temporary restraining order is signed by Judge Vance. Michael and Hattie have just been served by the county sheriff right in the lobby of the Heights District building.”
I chuckled. “How did they take it?”
“According to the process server, the mother started screaming that you were a witch from the mountains who had bewitched the legal system. Michael tried to tear up the paperwork, but the sheriff reminded him that destroying a legal summons in front of an officer is an arrestable offense. He’s currently trying to call your corporate office.”
“Let him,” I said, standing up and grabbing my blazer. “It’s time to head to the office anyway.”
When I arrived at the executive suites of Vanguard Development Group, the atmosphere was charged. As the legal director, my office was situated on the top floor, overlooking the executive boardroom. As I walked past the cubicles, I noticed several junior architects whispering.
My assistant, Chloe, rushed toward me with a tablet in her hand. “Ms. Vance, Michael Coleman from the design team has been in the lobby for an hour demanding to see you. He’s causing a massive scene. He’s telling human resources that you used corporate influence to illegally evict him from his housing.”
“Where is he now, Chloe?”
“The CEO, Mr. Sterling, called him into his private office to calm him down. Mr. Sterling requested your presence the moment you arrived.”
I smiled, adjusting the collar of my tailored theory suit. “Perfect. Let’s not keep the CEO waiting.”
I walked down the wood-paneled hallway toward the corner office. When I pushed the heavy oak door open, I found Michael sitting in a leather chair, his hair disheveled, his breathing heavy. His mother, Hattie, was sitting beside him, clutching a knock-off designer handbag and weeping loudly into a tissue.
The CEO, Marcus Sterling—a man whose company relied entirely on my legal strategy to navigate hundreds of millions of dollars in land acquisitions—looked up from his desk with a deep frown.
“Penelope,” Marcus said, gesturing to a chair. “Thank God you’re here. Michael is making some incredibly serious allegations about you using company resources to retaliate against him over a domestic dispute.”
The moment Michael saw me, he stood up, his face contorted with rage. “There she is! You see, Marcus? She’s a monster! She had her redneck mother come to our home to insult us, and then she used a fake corporate LLC to turn off our power and throw my sick mother into the street! Look at her, she’s completely heartless!”
Hattie lifted her head, her eyes flashing with venom. “She’s a fraud, Mr. Sterling! Her family comes from nothing! She married my son for his status and now she’s trying to ruin his career! You have to fire her!”
I didn't sit down. I stood near the door, my expression as calm and unyielding as a glacier. I looked at Marcus, then turned my gaze to Michael.
“Marcus,” I said smoothly, ignoring the two screaming people in front of me. “Before you listen to another word from the design manager, I think you should review this.”
May you like
I slid a flash drive across the mahogany desk. “That contains the unedited Ring camera footage from yesterday morning at 10:14 AM. It features Hattie Coleman putting a dog chain around my mother’s neck, screaming racial and socioeconomic slurs, and attempting to force her to act like an animal. It also features Michael Coleman arriving on the scene, refusing to ask questions, and violently assaulting the legal director of your company.”
The room went dead silent. Michael’s jaw dropped, the color instantly draining from his face. He had forgotten about the camera.
