For most of the afternoon, I had been telling myself the party was going well.

Word count: ~1,500 words

“911, what is your emergency?” a calm, professional voice asked.

“Yes, I’d like to report a trespasser and harassment at my residence,” I said clearly, keeping my eyes fixed on the door through the peephole. “My mother-in-law, Wendy Carter, is currently pounding on my door, screaming threats, and violating a court-issued restraining order that was served to her less than two hours ago.”

“Ma’am, what is your address?”

I rattled off the apartment address while Wendy continued to hammer her fists against the wood, her voice rising in frantic hysteria.

“Open this door right now! You think a piece of paper from some hack judge is going to keep me away from my granddaughter?! You stole my son’s life, and now you’re stealing my family!”

Fiona, who had been coloring with crayons at the kitchen table, looked up, her lower lip trembling slightly at the loud crashing sounds echoing from the hallway.

I rushed over, knelt down, and wrapped my arms around her.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, forcing a bright, reassuring smile onto my face. “Just a noisy neighbor. Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you and I go build a tall tower with your blocks in your bedroom?”

Fiona nodded bravely, clutching a yellow block. “Build a big tower, Mommy.”

While Fiona happily carried her blocks into the back bedroom, the harsh, metallic wail of a police siren echoed up from the street below. Within thirty seconds, heavy footsteps pounded up the stairwell.

“Police! Ma’am, step away from the door and put your hands where we can see them!” a gruff officer’s voice commanded in the hallway.

Wendy’s screeching cut off abruptly.

“Officer, you have no right! This woman is holding my grandchild hostage! Arrest her!”

“Step back, ma’am. Hands behind your back. You are in direct violation of an emergency protective order issued by Judge Alpert two hours ago.”

Through the peephole, I watched as two uniformed officers firmly grasped Wendy’s arms, sliding steel handcuffs around her wrists while she thrashed and shrieked protests that bounced off the apartment walls.

“Do you know who my family is?! My son is Luca Carter! I will have both your badges!” she yelled as they marched her down the stairwell toward the exit.

I waited three full minutes after the heavy exterior doors slammed shut before cracking my apartment door open.

Officer Miller, a tall, middle-aged cop with a calm demeanor, stood in the hallway waiting for me. He recognized me from a community outreach program I had volunteered with a year prior.

“You okay, Jessica?” he asked, lowering his notepad.

“We’re fine, Officer Miller,” I said, letting out a long, shaky breath. “Thank you for responding so quickly.”

“She was in direct violation of the judge’s order,” Miller said, shaking his head. “We’ve hauled her down to the county precinct holding cells. She’ll see a magistrate judge in the morning for contempt of court and criminal trespass. You and your little girl should be safe for tonight.”

“Will she be able to post bail immediately?”

Miller gave a dry, knowing smile. “With those contempt charges added on top of a domestic restraining order? The magistrate is going to set bail high, and given how she treated my deputies out here in the hallway, I doubt anyone’s rushing to sign her bond.”

I thanked him again and locked the door behind him.

My phone buzzed immediately. It was Arthur.

“I just got word from the precinct,” Arthur said, sounding thoroughly amused. “Wendy got herself arrested for violating the restraining order. The judge is livid. Her arraignment is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM, and I’ve already arranged for a court stenographer to transcribe her lovely little outburst for our custody hearing next week.”

“Karma works fast,” I murmured.

“It does when you have proper legal representation,” Arthur replied smoothly. “How is Fiona holding up?”

“She’s playing with her blocks. She thinks it was just a noisy neighbor.”

“Good. Keep her insulated from this as much as possible. Because tomorrow morning, Luca is going to realize his mother is sitting in a jail cell, and he’s going to come looking for someone to blame.”

Arthur was right.

At 7:00 PM that evening, my phone lit up with an incoming call from an unrecognized local number. I let it go to voicemail.

Ten seconds later, a text message arrived from Luca:

“You had my mother arrested?! Are you out of your psychotic mind, Jessi?! She’s an elderly woman sitting in a jail cell because of your malicious lies! Drop the restraining orders right now, or I swear to God I will strip you of every cent in the divorce settlement and make sure you never see a single penny of spousal support!”

I stared at the screen, letting a cold smile touch my lips.

Spousal support.