Chapter 5 - THE FIRST SUMMONS
By mid-afternoon, the expected storm broke.
I was on my front porch, pruning the potted hydrangeas Arthur had planted years ago, when a black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to my curb. A young man in an ill-fitting charcoal suit stepped out, carrying an manila envelope clasped under his arm. He walked up my driveway with the rehearsed swagger of someone who believed paper documents carried the force of an executioner’s axe.
"Pauline Vance?" he asked, adjusting his sunglasses.
"Pauline Miller," I corrected calmly, clipping a dead leaf without looking up. "My husband was Arthur Miller. The attorney you’re thinking of is Marcus Vance, but you’ll meet him soon enough."
The process server blinked, momentarily thrown off his script. He cleared his throat and handed the envelope over the porch railing. "You have been served. Montgomery vs. Miller. 20th Judicial District."
"Thank you, young man. Drive safely back downtown."
I took the envelope into the house, sat at the kitchen counter, and used a brass letter opener to slit the seal.
The document was fifty-two pages of pure, unadulterated fiction, crafted by the law firm of *Kensington, Ward & Montgomery*—Harold’s firm.
The allegations were theatrical: *Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress, Tortious Interference with Marital Contract, and Constructive Fraud.* Harold was alleging that I had systematically manipulated Derek’s finances to keep marital assets hidden from Brianna, while demanding damages in excess of four hundred thousand dollars. Included in the prayer for relief was an emergency injunction requesting a temporary lien against my home to secure the alleged debt.
I read through the claims, feeling neither fear nor fury. What struck me was the sheer, breathtaking arrogance of it. Harold and Brianna had lived so long behind the wall of inherited wealth and social intimidation that they truly believed a court of law was just another ballroom where they could dictate the music.
My phone rang. The caller ID displayed the downtown office of Marcus Vance.
"Pauline," Marcus’s gravelly voice came over the line. "Did Harold’s runner drop off their little theatrical production yet?"
"Just now, Marcus. Fifty-two pages. They’re asking for an emergency lien on the house."
Marcus let out a short, dry chuckle that sounded like stones grinding together. "Harold Montgomery is getting sloppy in his old age. He thinks intimidation replaces procedure. An emergency lien on an unadjudicated tort claim without prior notice? Any magistrate in Davidson County will toss that off the docket within three minutes."
"What’s our move?" I asked.
"Derek came by my associate’s office during his lunch break," Marcus said, his tone shifting into battle-ready discipline. "We filed the petition for absolute divorce at 1:15 PM on the grounds of cruel and inhuman treatment and marital dissipation. We attached thirty-six pages of bank statements showing Brianna withdrew sixty-eight thousand dollars from joint accounts in the last ninety days without spousal consent."
A warmth spread through my chest. Derek hadn't waited. He hadn't flinched. He had executed the plan with the precision of a soldier.
"And what about this civil suit against me?" I asked.
"We don't just defend it, Pauline," Marcus stated coldly. "Tomorrow morning at nine, I am filing a motion for Rule 11 sanctions against Harold’s firm for bringing a frivolous, bad-faith claim without evidentiary basis. Along with it, we’re serving Brianna with a demand for immediate forensic accounting and a subpoena for Harold Montgomery’s personal business ledger."
"Harold’s ledger?" I paused. "Can we reach his company?"
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"Harold signed the verification on the complaint as Brianna’s legal representative and financial guarantor," Marcus replied. "The moment the old fool put his signature on that paper, he opened the door for us to audit where Brianna’s supposed 'independent wealth' was coming from. He stepped into my courtroom, Pauline. And he’s about to find out that the bench doesn't bow to the country club."
***
