“No, Sarah,” I said, my eyes sparkling. “I don’t need a ride. In fact, today is the best day of my life.”
By the time I took an Uber back to the house, it was 2:00 PM.
As expected, Eleanor had lost no time. Two large trash bags filled with my daughters’ shoes and stuffed animals were already sitting on the front porch. The front door was wide open, and I could hear Eleanor and Ryan inside, loudly discussing how they were going to redecorate our bedroom into a home gym for Ryan.
I walked into the foyer.
“Oh, you’re back,” Ryan said, leaning against the banister. “Look, I’ve already called a lawyer. I’m filing for divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. Don’t expect a dime of alimony, Evelyn. I don’t make enough to support two households, and my parents own this house. You have two hours to get the rest of your junk out.”
Eleanor walked out of the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. “And don’t think about taking any of the furniture we bought. You leave with what you brought into this marriage, which was nothing.”
I stood there, looking at them. I felt no fear. No sadness. Only a profound sense of anticipation.
“Are you sure about this, Ryan?” I asked, one final time. “You really want me and the girls to leave? You’re completely abandoning your daughters?”
“They aren’t my problem anymore,” Ryan sneered. “Go find some other sucker.”
“Alright,” I said.
I reached into my bag, pulled out my phone, and sent a single text message to Victoria Vance: Execute.
Exactly three minutes later, the quiet suburban street outside erupted into a chorus of heavy engines.
Ryan frowned, walking over to the window. Eleanor followed him, peeking through the blinds.
Outside, three massive, professional moving trucks from the most expensive relocation company in the state pulled up, completely blocking the driveway. Following them was a sleek, black luxury SUV with tinted windows.
Before Ryan or Eleanor could say a word, the front door was pushed open. Four large, muscular movers walked in, carrying packing crates and tape, followed closely by Victoria Vance, looking immaculate in a tailored power suit, holding a thick legal folder.
“What the hell is this?” Ryan shouted, stepping forward. “Who are you people? Get out of my parents’ house!”
Victoria didn’t even look at him. She turned to me and bowed her head slightly. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Pendelton-Mercer. The logistics team is ready. We will have all of your and the children’s belongings cleared out within forty-five minutes. The keys to your new estate in Willow Creek are in my car.”
Ryan’s jaw dropped. “Mrs. what? Willow Creek? That’s the wealthiest neighborhood in the state! Evelyn, what is this joke?”
Victoria finally turned to Ryan, her expression ice-cold. She pulled a thick stack of papers from her folder and slapped them directly onto his chest.
“Mr. Mercer, you have been officially served,” Victoria announced, her voice echoing through the house. “These are divorce papers, alongside an immediate emergency application for full legal and physical custody of Ava, Noelle, Piper, and the unborn child, based on documented verbal abuse and abandonment.”
“Are you insane?” Eleanor shrieked, dropping her teacup. It shattered on the floor. “She doesn’t have a penny! She’s a housewife! She can’t sue for custody, she can’t even afford a lawyer!”
“Actually,” Victoria said, a small, dangerous smile touching her lips. “My client is the sole heir to the Arthur Pendelton Estate. As of thirty days ago, she is the chairperson of the Pendelton Trust, with personal liquid assets exceeding four million dollars, and a commercial real estate portfolio worth ten times that.”
The room went dead silent.
Ryan looked at the papers in his hand, his face draining of all color. He looked at the legal headers, the stamped court seals, and the financial disclosures attached. His hands began to shake violently.
“Four… four million?” Ryan stammered, his eyes darting from the paper to me, his voice cracking. “Evelyn… you… your grandfather? Why didn’t you tell me? We’re a family! We can buy a bigger house! We can—”
“We are not a family, Ryan,” I said, my voice cutting through his panic like a scalpel. “You threw me and your daughters out because of the gender of our child. You stood there and laughed.”
“Evelyn, honey, it was a joke!” Eleanor suddenly choked out, her face twisting into a horrific, desperate smile as she tried to step toward me. “You know how Ryan is, he gets stressed! We love the girls! Ava is my sweet little angel! We didn’t mean it, we would never actually turn you out!”
