Chapter 9 - The Eviction Notice
Within twenty-four hours of the boardroom confrontation, the town's social hierarchy underwent a seismic shift.
Arthur Caldwell wasted no time. By Wednesday evening, a forensic accounting team had locked Denise out of the Mercer Family Investment offices. By Thursday morning, rumors were flying through the country club that Denise had funneled over six hundred thousand dollars from the family trust into private offshore accounts and questionable real estate purchases under her maiden name over the past three years.
Meanwhile, Jenna went to work with ruthless efficiency.
She filed an emergency petition for establishing paternity, sole legal and physical custody, and an immediate injunction freezing Tyler's assets to guarantee future child support and prenatal medical coverage. Attached to that petition was our five-million-dollar civil lawsuit against Denise Mercer and Tyler Mercer for defamation per se, intentional infliction of emotional distress, and public disclosure of private affairs.
On Thursday afternoon, I was resting on the porch of my duplex, drinking sweet mint tea while Owen finished assembling a solid oak rocking chair for the nursery.
A silver Mercedes pulled up to the curb. Tyler stepped out.
He looked hollowed out. His expensive designer shirt was wrinkled, dark purple circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and he had stubble covering his jaw. He approached the steps cautiously, keeping his hands in his pockets as Owen immediately stood up, towering over the bottom step with a socket wrench in his hand.
"That's far enough, Mercer," Owen said, his voice flat and dangerous.
"Owen, please. I just need five minutes with Claire," Tyler pleaded. He looked at me, his voice trembling. "Claire, please. I cut my mother off. I moved out of the family estate yesterday. I fired her as my manager, and Arthur is helping me press charges against her for embezzling Dad's trust."
I set my teacup down on the small wicker table. "Good for you, Tyler. That's a step toward becoming a decent person. But it has nothing to do with me."
"It has everything to do with us!" he cried, taking half a step forward before Owen shifted his weight, stopping him cold. "Claire, she's our daughter! I was blinded! My mother has manipulated me my whole life—she controlled my college, my career, my relationships! When she told me she had evidence... I was stupid. I was weak. But I love you. I love our baby."
May you like
"You loved your comfort, Tyler," I replied, looking directly into his pleading eyes. "A real father doesn't need a lab report to defend his child. A real man doesn't sit silently while his mother calls the mother of his baby a whore on the internet."
***
