Chapter 7 - The Counter-Strike
Bright and early Tuesday morning, while the rest of the city was recovering from the holidays, Megan and I sat in the glass-walled conference room of Vance & Sterling, the top family and corporate law firm downtown.
Sitting across from us was Sarah Vance, a sharp, formidable attorney with silver hair and eyes like polished steel. She had spent two hours reviewing the documents I had brought in three thick binders.
Sarah closed the final folder, leaned back in her leather chair, and folded her hands. "Mrs. Whitmore—"
"Laura," I corrected gently. "I'm dropping the name."
"Laura," Sarah smiled tightly. "I have been practicing corporate and matrimonial law for twenty-eight years. I rarely see a case where one party has handed the other party such a clean, airtight execution weapon."
She tapped the binder containing the mortgage documents. "The forged signature on your residential property is a slam dunk. We will file an emergency motion to freeze the lien, report the notary public who stamped it without your presence—who I suspect is a friend of your husband’s—and file for immediate spousal separation with exclusive possession of the home."
"What about the Oakridge property and Megan’s business?" I asked.
Sarah turned her attention to Megan. "Your mother’s legal maneuvering was amateurish. She relied on Daniel’s corporate account to fund the trust modification. Because Laura is filing an emergency freeze on all Whitmore Holdings accounts due to corporate fraud, the trust transfer cannot legally close. The Oakridge house remains in probate under your grandfather's original will—which explicitly lists you as co-heir."
Megan let out a long breath she had been holding for days. "So my mother can't give it to Daniel?"
"Not without your written consent, which I assume you will not be providing," Sarah said dryly. "Furthermore, we will file a motion for tortious interference against your mother for attempting to destabilize your business."
Sarah looked between the two of us. "However, you need to understand what happens next. When we serve these papers, Patricia and Daniel will not go quietly. People like them treat accountability like an act of violence. They will try to smear you, intimidate you, and cut off your resources."
"They’ve already tried," I said calmly. "Daniel called me thirty-two times yesterday. Patricia sent an email threatening to cut Megan out of her will entirely if she didn't return home by noon today."
"And how did you respond?" Sarah asked.
"I didn't," I said. "I let my work speak for me."
"Good," Sarah said, pulling a stack of legal forms toward her. "Sign here, here, and here. By two o'clock this afternoon, process servers will arrive at Daniel’s office and Patricia’s house. Let’s see how much they enjoy Christmas presents from Vance & Sterling."
As we walked out of the law firm into the crisp December sunshine, my phone buzzed in my coat pocket.
It was a text from Daniel:
May you like
Laura, please. Mom is sick with stress. We need to talk before this ruins the family permanently.
I looked at the message, smiled softly to myself, and blocked his number forever.
