Chapter 6 - The Counterstrike
On December twenty-seventh, the holiday break ended, and the legal machinery swung into motion with brutal efficiency.
Harold filed our divorce petition along with an emergency motion for temporary exclusive possession of our marital home and an immediate freeze on all joint liquid assets. By noon, Jonathan was officially served at his corporate office in downtown Chicago, right in front of his colleagues and senior management team.
I returned to our four-bedroom home in Lincoln Park accompanied by my brother, Luke, and two off-duty police officers Harold had arranged to oversee the transition.
We changed the entry door locks, updated the alarm security codes, and packed three large cardboard boxes containing Jonathan’s designer clothes, shoes, and personal items. We placed the boxes neatly on the covered front porch, clearly labeled with his name.
At three o'clock, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it on speaker while Luke stood beside me in the kitchen.
"Clara," a woman’s voice spoke smoothly through the line. It was soft, polished, and entirely devoid of panic.
It was Samantha Cross.
"Hello, Samantha," I said, leaning against the marble kitchen island.
"I think it’s time we spoke woman-to-woman," Samantha said calmly. "Jonathan is staying with me right now. He’s extremely distressed by the dramatic measures you and his parents have taken. I understand you're hurt, but dragging his career and family reputation through the mud is petty."
I let out a soft, amused breath. "Petty? You've been living in a Lincoln Park apartment paid for with my savings since August, Samantha. Did Jonathan tell you that part?"
A subtle beat of silence hung over the line before Samantha recovered her composure.
"Jonathan loved me long before he ever met you, Clara," Samantha sneered, dropping her polite facade. "We had a history. You were just a comfortable placeholder while he established his career. He came back to me because you’re boring, work-obsessed, and incapable of giving him what he needs."
"If he loves you so much, why did he use our joint credit card to buy your diamond necklace?" I asked smoothly. "Why didn't he use his own money, Samantha? Because Jonathan doesn't spend his own money on anyone. He uses people. He used me for seven years to build his image, and now he’s using you to soothe his fragile ego."
"He’s going to fight you for this house," Samantha hissed, her control slipping. "And he has a top-tier defense lawyer."
"Tell your lawyer to review the Illinois financial dissipation statutes," I replied calmly. "And tell Jonathan that if he steps foot on this property, the officers stationed down the street will arrest him for criminal trespass. Have a wonderful New Year, Samantha."
I ended the call and blocked the number.
May you like
Luke looked at me, raising an eyebrow in silent approval. "You handled that like a boss."
"I learned from the best," I smiled faintly, looking out the kitchen window toward Eleanor’s estate down the road. "Now let's go change the locks on the garage."
