Chapter 9 - The EvictionForty-eight hours after acquiring the Vance family's mortgage debt, I drove my old Ford pickup up the winding driveway of the Vance mansion one last time.
The grand iron gates were locked, but my team of legal bailiffs and moving crews brought heavy machinery to cut the chains.
Standing on the front porch was Roger Vance. He looked ten years older, his expensive suit wrinkled, a bottle of cheap scotch held loosely in his hand.
"You took everything," Roger muttered bitterly as I walked up the marble steps. "My son is in a cell, my wife is facing ten years in prison, and my company is bankrupt. Are you satisfied, mechanic?"
I stopped on the top step, looking down at him with cold, unyielding eyes.
"You stood by for six years while your son beat my daughter," I said, my voice quiet but sharp as steel. "You knew what was happening in this house, Roger. You chose to look the other way because you cared more about your precious family name than a young woman's life."
A fleet of moving trucks pulled up the driveway behind me, followed by county sheriff deputies holding an official order of foreclosure.
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"This property now belongs to Apex Holdings," the lead deputy announced to Roger. "You have thirty minutes to collect your personal belongings and vacate the premises."
Roger stared at the deputies, then at me. His bottle slipped from his hand, shattering against the marble steps. Without saying another word, he turned, grabbed a single leather briefcase from the hallway, and walked down the driveway into the cold afternoon air, leaving behind the mansion he had spent his life building.
