Chapter 2 - The Eject ButtonDaniel lunged for the folder, his hands shaking as he ripped it open. Vanessa dropped her apple, her smug expression shattering as she watched her brother’s face turn an ash-gray color.
"Daniel? What’s wrong with you? What does it say?"
"An emergency protection order," Daniel whispered, his voice cracking. "And... an immediate eviction notice."
==================================================================
NOTICE OF IMMEDIATE EVICTION & INJUNCTION
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CASE FILE: #2026-DOM-88492
RESPONDENT: Daniel Jacob Vance
COMPLAINant: Claire E. Sterling-Vance
PURSUANT TO COURT ORDER ORDER-DOM-992:
1. Respondent must vacate the premises at 1422 Windmere Lane IMMEDIATELY.
2. Respondent is prohibited from coming within 500 feet of Complainant.
3. All corporate authorizations under Sterling Lending Group are REVOKED.
==================================================================
"She can't do that!" Vanessa screamed, grabbing the papers from his hands. "We live here! Your name is on the mailbox!"
"On the mailbox, Vanessa, not the deed," a new voice boomed from the kitchen doorway.
Daniel spun around. Standing in the entrance was Officer Martinez, the policeman Claire had left waiting outside, accompanied by a tall, sharply dressed woman carrying a leather briefcase. It was Miriam Cole, the most ruthless corporate and family attorney in the tri-state area.
"Mr. Vance," Officer Martinez said, his hand resting casually on his utility belt. "You have exactly fifteen minutes to pack one suitcase of personal clothing. Anything else—electronics, papers, jewelry—remains property of the estate pending legal division. If you do not cooperate, you will be removed in handcuffs for violating the active protection order issued two hours ago."
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"This is a joke," Daniel sneered, trying to step toward Miriam. "Claire is throwing a tantrum because we had a disagreement over breakfast. I had a little spill with my coffee. It was an accident!"
"A partial-thickness chemical and thermal burn documented by the chief of trauma at St. Catherine’s is not a spill, Mr. Vance," Miriam Cole said, her smile like a razor blade. "And your fifteen minutes started thirty seconds ago. I suggest you start packing, because at 4:00 p.m., the locksmiths arrive to clear the biometrics."
