Chapter 6 - The Serving of Reality
The doorbell rang a second time, more insistently this time, echoing through the stunned silence of the kitchen.
Mason stood frozen, the manila folder trembling in his hands like a ticking bomb. Beatrice stood with her claws outstretched inches from the air, her chest heaving as the horrific realization of what Valerie had just said began to sink into her skull.
“Divorce…?” Beatrice whispered, her voice cracking. “You can’t divorce my son! He gave you his name! He elevated your social standing!”
“Your son gave me a headache and a mountain of financial debt disguised as family obligation,” Valerie replied coldly, stepping past Beatrice without a second glance.
Valerie walked down the tiled hallway toward the front door. She unlocked the heavy oak panel and pulled it open. Standing on the porch was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sharp suit holding a leather folio and a tablet.
“Valerie Sinclair?” the man asked professionally.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“Marcus Vance’s office. I have court-ordered documents for you to sign regarding the immediate filing, asset freezing, and temporary restraining order service for the occupants of this address.” The process server handed her a sleek electronic stylus and a clipboard.
Valerie signed her name with swift, elegant strokes. “Thank you. Please ensure the second packet is served directly to Mason Sinclair and Beatrice Sinclair before they leave the premises.”
“Already handled, ma’am. Have a good morning.”
The process server nodded, pulled two heavy white envelopes from his folio, and walked past Valerie into the entryway where Mason and Beatrice were still standing in shock.
“Mason Sinclair and Beatrice Sinclair?” the server called out professionally, holding out the documents. “You’ve been served. Copies of the emergency injunctions, asset freezes, and restraining orders are contained herein. Have a blessed day.”
He dropped the envelopes onto the glass console table, turned on his heel, and walked back down the driveway, leaving the papers resting there like a heavy shroud.
Mason stared at the white envelopes as if they were venomous snakes. Slowly, mechanically, he reached out, picked up his envelope, and tore it open. His eyes scanned the legal jargon printed on the official court letterhead.
*TEMPORARY RESTRAINING ORDER. ASSET FREEZE. PRELIMINARY INJUNCTION ON MARITAL PROPERTY.*
“No…” Mason breathed out, his knees buckling slightly as he backed up against the wall. “No, this isn't real. You can’t lock me out of the accounts! You can’t kick my mother out of the house!”
“Actually, Mason, the house is registered solely in my pre-marital corporate portfolio,” Valerie announced as she walked back into the foyer, slipping her suit jacket over her shoulders. “Which means within seventy-two hours, once the emergency eviction order clears the judge’s desk, both you and your mother will need to find alternative living arrangements. Preferably somewhere that doesn't rely on my salary.”
Beatrice let out a sound that was half-shriek, half-animal wail. She rushed toward Valerie, blind with rage, screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs.
“You treacherous snake! You think you can kick me out? I’m the matriarch of this family! I’ll ruin you! I’ll go to your office, I’ll tell your boss you’re insane, I’ll destroy your career!”
Valerie didn't flinch. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her burner phone, tapped the screen twice, and held it up.
A crystal-clear audio recording began playing through the phone’s speaker at maximum volume: *“You ungrateful bitch!”* followed by the sharp, echoing sound of a heavy slap, and Beatrice’s shrill voice screaming: *“She attacked me! Mason is going to see what a monster you really are!”*
Beatrice stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open.
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“Go ahead, Beatrice,” Valerie said softly, her eyes flashing with dangerous brilliance. “Take that recording to my boss. Or better yet, let’s hand it over to the judge handling the assault charges and the restraining order violation hearings scheduled for next week. See how the court likes your performance.”
TITLE: The Price of Entitlement
