Chapter 2 - The Eviction
"That—that's a deepfake!" Marcus shouted, pointing a trembling finger at the speaker. "She's a cybersecurity analyst! She fabricated that audio with AI to frame us!"
Diane Vance, the litigator, finally spoke. She didn't raise her voice; she didn't need to. "The metadata on that file has already been authenticated by a third-party forensic firm this afternoon, Marcus. Along with forty-two other recordings, fifty pages of fraudulent loan applications with your forged signatures, and a digital trail of your illegal wire transfers."
Gerald, always the more calculated of the two, tried to regain his composure. He smoothed his tie. "Arthur, let’s be reasonable. You're a man of the world. Marriages have rough patches. There's no need to involve the authorities. Let us handle this privately."
My father stood up. He was six-foot-three and built like a tank. He walked slowly around the table until he was inches from Gerald's face.
"If I were still a federal prosecutor, Gerald, I would have you indicted by morning," my father whispered, his voice dripping with lethal intent. "But as a father? I am exercising every ounce of restraint I have not to break your jaw. You plotted to drug my daughter. You plotted to lock her in a psych ward and steal her life."
He turned to Marcus. "And you put your hands on her."
Marcus shrunk back, terrified.
"You have five minutes to leave this property," my father commanded. "You will not pack a bag. You will leave your keys, your company laptop, and your access cards on this table. Diane has already filed an emergency restraining order. If you come within five hundred feet of my daughter, you will be arrested."
"This is my house!" Marcus yelled, his panic turning to rage.
"Check the deed, Marcus," I said coldly. "I owned this house before I met you. I just had the locks changed, and the security system is now routed directly to my father's firm."
Marcus lunged toward me, but before he could close the distance, the two security guards slammed him face-first into the hardwood floor.
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"Keys. Now," the guard ordered.
Defeated, humiliated, and bruised, Marcus and his father were physically thrown out the front door into the cold evening air. I watched from the window as they scrambled into Gerald's car and sped away. For the first time in three years, I could finally breathe.
