Chapter 2 - The Red Snow
Within ten minutes, the sharp wail of sirens echoed through the quiet, snow-covered neighborhood. Red and blue emergency lights flashed violently against the pristine white landscape, illuminating the grand facade of Oakridge Manor.
An ambulance and two police cruisers pulled up behind my truck. Paramedics rushed to the passenger side of my vehicle, immediately attending to Claire. They wrapped her in thermal blankets, attached oxygen, and began inspecting the deep, dark bruises along her wrists and shoulders.
"Severe hypothermia, low blood pressure, and clear signs of physical restraint," the lead paramedic noted grimly to the police officer standing beside him. "We need to get her to the trauma center immediately."
"Go with them, sir," Officer Vance, a veteran police officer, told me as he took down my statement. "We will handle the situation inside the residence."
"No," I said, my gaze locked on the front porch where Eleanor and Natalie were standing, looking bewildered and outraged by the flashing police lights. "I'm coming with you inside first. I want this on official record."
Officer Vance nodded, signaling his partner to follow us up the steps.
As we approached the door, Eleanor stepped out, her eyebrows furrowed in deep indignation. She smoothed down her silk blouse, her voice booming across the porch.
"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, pointing an accused finger at the officers. "Ethan, have you lost your mind? Calling the police to our home? This is a private family matter! Send these officers away this instant!"
"Ma'am, step back," Officer Vance warned sternly, pulling a small notepad out. "We received a call regarding an assault and an unconscious victim left in extreme weather conditions."
Natalie scoffed loudly, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. "Oh, please! Claire threw a dramatic fit because we asked her to clean up her mess. She went outside on her own. Nobody forced her into the snow!"
"Is that so?" I stepped forward, pulling a small silver USB drive from my dress uniform pocket. It was connected to the smart security hub mounted near the garage roof—a system my father had installed years ago that backed up footage to a private cloud server.
"Officer Vance," I said calmly. "The perimeter of this house is equipped with high-definition night-vision cameras. Every angle of the driveway, the patio, and the side gate is recorded twenty-four hours a day."
Mother's face twitched slightly, a flash of genuine panic flickering in her eyes before she quickly masked it with anger. "Ethan, don't you dare act like a detective in my house!"
"This isn't your house, Mother," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper.
Before she could process my words, a black sedan pulled up to the driveway behind the police cruisers. David Sloan stepped out, dressed in an immaculate charcoal wool coat, carrying a thick leather briefcase.
"Good evening, officers," David said, stepping past the snowbank and standing beside me. "I am David Sloan, legal counsel representing Captain Ethan Vance and Mrs. Claire Vance. I have brought the official property ownership records, as well as an immediate emergency filing for criminal trespass and grand destruction of private property."
Eleanor let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "Legal counsel? Trespass?! David, have you gone mad too? I am the widow of Arthur Vance! I am the mistress of Oakridge Manor! You cannot trespass me from my own home!"
David slowly pulled a thick staple-bound document from his briefcase, opening it to a stamped page bearing a red county seal.
"Mrs. Vance," David said with cold, legal precision. "Arthur Vance established the Vance Family Irrevocable Lifetime Trust two months before his death. Under section four of the deed, ownership of Oakridge Manor was fully transferred out of Arthur's personal name and into the trust."
He held up the paper so the porch light illuminated the dark text.
"The trust clearly designates Claire Vance as the primary, unalterable beneficiary, giving her exclusive right of occupancy for life. Ethan Vance is the sole trustee, holding absolute administrative authority over all contents, accounts, and access permissions regarding this property."
Eleanor stood frozen, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Her face turned as white as the snow beneath her feet.
"What... what are you talking about?" Natalie gasped, stepping back into the foyer, her smug composure completely crumbling. "Dad would never do that! He promised us this house!"
"Your father knew exactly what both of you were capable of," David replied firmly. "You have zero legal ownership of this estate. Neither of you is listed on the title. You have been residing here purely under the temporary tolerance of Captain Ethan Vance—a tolerance that has just expired."
Officer Vance looked from the legal documents to my stern face, then back to the two terrified women standing in the doorway.
"Captain Vance," Officer Vance asked. "As the legal trustee of this property, do you wish to press charges for physical assault and issue an immediate trespass order against these individuals?"
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I looked at my mother. I looked at my sister. Two women who had watched the woman I loved freeze to death on a gravel driveway while they sat eating roast chicken off stolen china.
"Press charges," I said clearly. "And remove them from this house immediately."
