Part 3
The next forty-five minutes were chaos inside the little blue house.
Helen stood on the front porch like a sentry, refusing to cross the threshold until the house was empty.
Inside, she could hear the muffled sounds of shouting, slamming drawers, and Lorraine’s shrill complaints.
"Don't touch that vase, Evan! I bought that for the living room!"
"Mom, just grab the clothes! We don't have time!"
Every few minutes, Evan would emerge from the front door carrying a random assortment of items.
Designer shirts still on their hangers.
A expensive coffee maker.
A box of golf clubs.
He threw them carelessly into the trunk of his silver sedan.
He wouldn't look at Helen.
He wouldn't look at the SUV across the street.
But Helen watched every single movement.
She noticed what he wasn't packing.
There were no children’s toys.
There were no women’s winter coats.
Everything he was taking belonged entirely to him or his mother.
They had truly stripped Delilah of everything before throwing her out.
At 12:30 PM, a second vehicle pulled up to the curb.
It was a sleek, black sedan.
A woman in a sharp navy blue pantsuit stepped out, carrying a leather briefcase.
This was Clara Vance, Helen’s longtime attorney and one of the sharpest legal minds in the county.
Clara walked up the driveway, her heels clicking purposefully against the concrete.
"Helen," Clara said, offering a warm but serious smile. "I came as soon as you called."
"Thank you, Clara," Helen said. "Is everything ready?"
Clara tapped the briefcase.
"Emergency restraining order is already drafted. The eviction notice is perfectly legal based on the deed status."
"And I brought a certified copy of the filing showing you never authorized tenancy."
Evan came out of the house carrying a final armload of shoes.
He stopped when he saw Clara.
He knew exactly who she was; Clara had handled the high-profile divorce of his boss the previous year.
"What is she doing here?" Evan demanded, his voice cracking slightly.
Clara stepped forward, her professional demeanor radiating authority.
"Mr. Mercer, I am here to ensure that this transition happens smoothly and legally."
"Furthermore, I am serving you with this notice of intent to file for emergency temporary custody on behalf of Delilah Mercer."
Evan dropped a pair of leather loafers onto the grass.
"Custody? She took my son! She ran away with him!"
"She fled a situation of severe emotional and economic abuse, Mr. Mercer," Clara countered smoothly.
"A situation that left a five-year-old child sleeping in a vehicle."
"We have the photographic evidence of the vehicle, the location, and the timeline."
"I suggest you take your remaining belongings and leave before the local sheriff arrives to assist us."
From the front door, Lorraine appeared, carrying a massive designer suitcase.
Her makeup was smeared, and her expensive silk robe looked wrinkled and ridiculous in the bright midday sun.
"This is a conspiracy!" Lorraine screamed, her voice cracking. "We will sue you for every penny you have, Helen Carter!"
Helen didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Thomas, the locksmith, stepped out of the house through the front door.
"All done with the back and side doors, Mrs. Carter," he said loudly.
"Just need to change the cylinder on this front door now."
He immediately began unscrewing the deadbolt.
The sound of the metal screws clicking out was the finality they couldn't ignore.
Evan looked at the house.
He looked at his mother.
He looked at the security guard-sized locksmiths standing right behind Helen.
With a curse, he grabbed his fallen shoes, shoved his mother into the passenger seat of his car, and slammed the door.
He got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and tore away from the curb, his tires screeching against the asphalt.
The street fell completely silent again.
Helen took a deep breath, the tension finally leaving her shoulders for a fraction of a second.
May you like
She turned toward the SUV.
"Delilah," she called out softly. "Noah. Come home."
