Chapter 8 - The Paperwork of TruthI reached into Darcy's folder, pulled out a laminated property deed bearing the Cook County Recorder of Deeds official gold seal, and placed it flat on the silver serving tray sitting on the entry console—right beside Fiona's birthday card.
"This condo was purchased five years ago," I announced clearly, addressing not just Julian and Fiona, but every single socialite, neighbor, and investor standing in that room. "The down payment of two hundred thousand dollars came directly from my late mother's inheritance estate. The primary mortgage of three thousand five hundred dollars a month has been paid exclusively from my personal salary account."
"Lies!" Fiona gasped, though her voice wavered slightly as her eyes caught the legal seal on the paper. "Julian, tell them! Tell them you buy everything!"
Julian’s face was rapidly draining of color. He looked down at the document in his hands, his thumb brushing over the bold, black lettering at the top: EX PARTE EMERGENCY ORDER OF PROTECTION & EXCLUSIVE POSSESSION.
"You... you signed a quitclaim deed during closing, Julian," I said softly, stepping closer to him. "Because your credit score was five hundred and twenty. You couldn't even qualify for a car loan, let alone a million-dollar mortgage."
A collective whisper rippled through the guests. Mrs. Gable, Fiona's rival from the garden club, raised her gold-rimmed reading glasses to her eyes, staring wide-eyed at the property document.
"You can't do this, Sloan," Julian hissed, his voice dropping into a desperate, furious whisper. "We're married! Marital assets are shared! You can't throw me out of my own home!"
"I can," Darcy interjected smoothly. "Under Illinois Marriage and Dissolution of Marriage Act, Section 501, the court has granted Mrs. Cole Exclusive Possession of this residence effective immediately. This order was signed two hours ago by Judge Rebecca Harris, following the submission of critical digital evidence."
Julian froze. His head snapped toward me. "What evidence?"
I touched the small metallic crest pin on my coat lapel.
"The recording from last night, Julian," I said softly. "Every word. From Fiona demanding sixty dishes, to you dragging me across the kitchen floor, to the exact sound of the deadbolt locking me inside the pantry for seven hours."
Julian’s breath hitched. The paper in his hands began to tremble.
"You recorded me?" he whispered, his eyes wide with a sudden, sickening terror. "You recorded us in our own home?"
"You locked her in a closet, Mr. Cole," Deputy Vance said sternly, stepping between Julian and myself, his hand resting casually near his duty belt. "That constitutes Unlawful Restraint and Domestic Coercion under state law. Right now, this protection order requires you to remain at least five hundred feet away from Mrs. Cole at all times."
"She's lying!" Fiona screamed, her aristocratic composure completely vanishing, revealing the ugly, desperate venom beneath. "She’s a lying, ungrateful servant! We took her in! We gave her status! After everything this family has done for you—"
"Mrs. Cole," Darcy interrupted, her voice dropping into an icy, dangerous register. "If I were you, I would stop speaking immediately."
May you like
Darcy reached back into her briefcase and pulled out a second, significantly thicker folder bound in red tape.
"Because if you say one more word about what you have done for Sloan... I will read page six of this forensic financial audit out loud to your party guests."
