Chapter 3 - The Courthouse Ambush
The municipal courthouse steps were slick with the morning dew as I climbed them at 8:45 AM. I was wearing a sharp, dark charcoal suit I had bought during a brief stateside leave two years ago—clean, professional, and entirely unyielding. Tucked securely under my arm was a heavy leather briefcase containing the complete physical and digital dossier: bank statements, wire transfers, text message logs, and Tristan’s legal counter-motions.
As I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the courthouse lobby, I spotted them immediately.
Bianca was standing near the directory board, wearing another immaculate designer outfit—this time an ivory wool trench coat that must have cost thousands—while Hector paced back and forth behind her, his slicked-back hair slightly disheveled, his jaw twitching as he stared continuously at his vibrating smartphone.
When Bianca turned and saw me walking across the polished marble floor, her face went completely pale. The haughty, predatory smirk she had worn at the house evaporated instantly, replaced by a flash of genuine panic.
"What is he doing here?" Hector hissed, stepping up beside his wife and glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. "Did you tell him we were filing today?"
"I didn't tell him anything!" Bianca snapped back, her voice rising sharply enough to draw the attention of a nearby security guard. She straightened her coat, took a breath, and marched directly toward me, her stiletto heels clicking rhythmically against the stone floor.
"Carver," she said, trying to inject a sickeningly sweet tone into her voice that failed miserably. "Let's not make a scene. We can resolve this like civilized adults. Just sign the waiver, let us sell the property, and we'll give you a ten-thousand-dollar relocation stipend to help you get back on your feet. It's generous."
I stopped dead in my tracks, looking down at her. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't flinch. I just stared at her with the absolute, detached chill of an intelligence officer reading an enemy's tactical retreat order.
"Ten thousand dollars, Bianca?" I asked softly. "Out of a house appraised at six hundred thousand, built on thirty years of our father's blood, and subsidized by the retirement funds you illegally funneled into Hector's failing crypto scam?"
Bianca’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened in absolute terror. "What... what are you talking about?"
"You didn't think Declan and I checked the corporate filings for Apex Holdings, did you?" I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she and Hector could hear. "Elder financial exploitation, wire fraud, conspiracy. Tristan has the complete dossier. We aren't just blocking the sale of this house today—we're filing criminal referral requests with the state attorney general's office before lunch."
Hector lunged forward, his face flushed a furious, ugly red. "You little piece of shit—"
Before Hector could take another step, a sharp voice cut through the lobby.
"Mr. Griffin! Over here!"
We turned to see Alister Tristan stepping out of the clerk of courts office, holding a stamped blue-backed folder in his hand. He looked at Hector and Bianca with a polite, razor-sharp smile.
"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin," Tristan said smoothly, walking up to us. "I trust you're here for the emergency partition hearing? Because I just filed our complete response, including the financial forensic audit and the counter-claims for elder abuse. I'm afraid the judge has already reviewed our emergency injunction request... and he has scheduled an immediate in-chambers hearing for ten o'clock this morning."
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Hector staggered back a half-step, staring at Tristan as if the lawyer had just pulled a weapon. "An... an in-chambers hearing? You can't do that without our counsel present—"
"Oh, our counsel is already waiting inside, Mr. Griffin," Tristan replied cheerfully, tapping his briefcase. "Shall we?"
