Chapter 7
Judge Sterling opened her leather folio, extracting a thick sheaf of legal documents stamped with blue court seals. She handed the top packet directly to the senior deputy standing at her left.
"Richard Hart, Margaret Hart, Daniel Hart," Judge Sterling read aloud, her voice ringing with the absolute weight of the law. "Pursuant to the emergency petition filed under the Julian Hart Living Trust, an immediate order of protection has been issued on behalf of the minor child, Lily Evelyn Hart. You are hereby ordered to maintain a distance of no less than one thousand feet from the child and her legal guardian, Emma Hart."
"You can't do this without a hearing!" Daniel shouted, his voice cracking into a panicked whine. "We have rights to due process!"
"The hearing was conducted ex-parte at four o'clock this afternoon, Mr. Hart," Judge Sterling replied coldly, looking at Daniel over her reading glasses. "Based on extensive evidence of systematic embezzlement, falsification of corporate records, and credible threats against the beneficiaries. Furthermore, the court has terminated your occupancy agreement for this premises with immediate effect."
The senior deputy stepped forward, holding a pair of heavy brass keys and an official eviction warrant. "Mr. Hart, you and your family have forty-five minutes to gather your personal clothing and medication. The locks are being rekeyed as we speak. If you remain on the property past eight-thirty, you will be taken into custody for criminal trespass and contempt of court."
Margaret began to sob openly, sinking onto the floor beside the ruined turkey platter, her emerald dress trailing in spilled gravy. "Richard, do something! Call Senator Hayes! Call our attorneys!"
"Nobody is taking my calls, Margaret," Richard whispered, his voice completely hollowed out. The mask had slipped entirely. He stood among the wreckage of his feast, an old, ruined man stripped of his empire, his wealth, and his dignity in less than an hour.
Lily tugged softly on Emma’s sweater. "Mommy? Can we go into the kitchen? My elbow hurts."
Emma looked down at her daughter, the fierce, terrifying wrath in her eyes melting instantly into boundless, protective warmth. She bent down, lifted Lily effortlessly into her arms, and kissed the swelling on the girl’s forehead.
"Of course, baby," Emma murmured. "Let's go clean your arm. The deputies will show these people out."
As Emma turned toward the kitchen doors, Richard’s voice rasped out from behind her—bitter, venomous, and dripping with desperate spite.
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"You think you’ve won, Emma?" Richard hissed, his fists shaking. "You think you can take his money and live happily ever after? You have no idea what Julian was doing before he died. You don't know who he was meeting."
Emma stopped in her tracks.
