Chapter 7 - The Locksmith and the Lawn
At two o'clock that afternoon, while my sister stayed with Leo and Maya at the hospital, I arrived at our quiet suburban house in the suburbs of Newton.
Parked in the driveway was a commercial locksmith van.
A locksmith was already standing on the front porch, his tool kit resting beside the front door.
“Mrs. Vance?” he asked as I stepped out of my car.
“Yes,” I said, handing him the certified copy of the emergency judge’s order of exclusive occupancy that Victoria Sterling’s office had processed three hours earlier. “I need every exterior lock on this house re-keyed immediately. I also need the garage door keypad recoded and the security system master pin changed.”
“You got it, ma'am,” the locksmith said, immediately getting to work with his drills and picks.
As the heavy click of the front door’s deadbolt being stripped echoed through the porch, a silver luxury sedan pulled up onto the street curb behind my car.
The passenger door slammed open, and David Vance—Mark’s older brother—stepped out onto the lawn, followed by his wife, Karen.
“Sarah!” David yelled, marching up the driveway with his face twisted in fury. “What the hell is going on here?! Why is there a locksmith at the house?!”
I didn't retreat into the house. I stood at the top of the porch steps, my hands folded calmly in front of me, watching them approach.
“David, Karen,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “You are currently trespassing on a property covered by a judicial protection order.”
“A protection order?!” Karen shrieked, her gold bracelets clanking as she threw her arms in the air. “You had my mother-in-law put in a county jail cell overnight! An sixty-eight-year-old woman! She spent the night on a concrete bench because your daughter made up a story!”
“My daughter didn't make up anything,” I said coldly. “The toxicology report confirmed my baby was given adult sedatives for three consecutive nights.”
David stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, pointing an angry finger at my chest. “Evelyn was helping you! Mark told us everything! You were losing your mind, you weren't sleeping, you were screaming at everyone—!”
“I was exhausted because your mother was secretly poisoning my son every time I closed my eyes!” I shouted, stepping to the edge of the porch, my voice echoing down the quiet suburban street. “And if you take one more step toward these stairs, David, I will have the police units who are currently patrolling this block arrest you for third-party harassment!”
David froze. He looked at the window of the locksmith van, then looked down the street where a marked Newton police cruiser was slowly turning the corner, its radar dish sweeping the residential road.
“You’re crazy,” David spat, taking a step back toward his sedan. “You’re completely out of your mind. Mark is going to take everything from you in court. You won't get a dime of alimony, you won't get the house, and you sure as hell won't keep those kids!”
“Tell Mark he can try,” I said softly. “Tell him Victoria Sterling is representing me.”
David’s face paled instantly. Even in the suburban real estate circles he moved in, the name Sterling carried a terrifying, legendary weight.
Without another word, David grabbed his wife’s arm, pulled her back into the silver sedan, and sped off down the street with tires screeching against the asphalt.
The locksmith turned around from the front door, holding up a sleek new silver key.
“All done, Mrs. Vance,” he said with a small, approving grin. “Deadbolts changed, garage recoded, security system reset. Nobody’s getting through that door without your permission.”
May you like
I took the new key in my hand. It was cold, heavy, and real.
“Thank you,” I said.
