Chapter 4 - THE EVICTION NOTICE
The digital clock on my wall ticked past 9:30 AM.
I hadn't even finished my first cup of coffee before my phone began to vibrate again. This time, I didn't answer. I placed the phone face-down on the granite island and watched it light up repeatedly.
Call from Elaine.
Call from Brandon.
Call from an unknown number—likely Marcus Vance or one of my father’s corporate fixers trying to bully me into a legal retraction.
I ignored them all.
Instead, I walked over to my laptop, opened a pre-drafted document, and hit Print. The laser printer whirred to life, spitting out three crisp pages of official legal correspondence bearing the letterhead of my real estate counsel.
An official Notice of Termination of Commercial Hospitality Rights.
If my family wanted to play landlord and tenant, we were going to play strictly by the book. For decades, they had treated the mountain lodge as their personal feudal estate, hosting lavish parties, writing off family vacations as corporate retreats, and treating me like the unpaid maid who cleaned up the mess afterward.
No more.
At 10:00 AM, my doorbell rang.
It wasn't a polite, casual knock. It was a heavy, aggressive pounding that rattled the frosted glass of my front door.
I walked slowly down the hallway, unlatched the deadbolt, and pulled the door open.
Standing on my porch was Brandon.
He looked a mess. His navy cashmere sweater—the one I had supposedly ruined with cider—was wrinkled, his hair was uncombed, and his face was flushed a furious, mottled red. Behind him parked in my driveway was his black Mercedes SUV, idling in the cold air with its exhaust pipe puffing white clouds into the Denver morning.
“Open the door all the way, Audrey,” Brandon spat, shoving past me without an invitation.
I didn't step back. I held my ground, letting him march into my entryway like an invading army. He whirled around to face me, his chest heaving.
“Are you completely out of your damn mind?!” Brandon yelled, his voice echoing off my high ceilings. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Dad is on the phone with three different lawyers trying to figure out how to undo your little stunt, and Mom is crying in the kitchen because half the valley is scheduled to come up for the New Year’s Eve gala!”
I closed the front door slowly, locking the deadbolt with a sharp, heavy click.
“Good morning to you too, Brandon,” I said calmly, leaning back against the wooden door and crossing my arms. “Did you enjoy the drive down the mountain? It’s about a two-hour commute, isn't it? Must be exhausting doing that twice in twelve hours.”
“Stop talking like a psychopath!” Brandon snarled, taking a step toward me. He pointed a shaking finger in my face. “You’re going to call your attorney right now. You’re going to sign whatever paperwork is necessary to put the lodge back under Dad’s name, and then you are going to call the insurance company and reinstate the policy.”
I looked at his finger pointing at me. The same finger that had pointed at me across the dining table the night before, blaming me for his clumsiness, treating me like dirt in front of a room full of strangers.
“And if I don't?” I asked quietly.
“If you don't?” Brandon laughed—a harsh, jagged sound. “Audrey, you’re a nobody. Without Dad, without our name, without the family, you’re just a lonely woman living in a cookie-cutter townhouse. You think you can fight Dad in court? He’ll bury you in legal fees before your lawyer can even file a motion!”
“Is that so?” I tilted my head. “Then why did you drive two hours down the mountain to beg me in my kitchen instead of letting Father handle it?”
Brandon’s face tightened. A microsecond of panic flickered across his eyes before he masked it with arrogance.
“Because I’m being the reasonable one,” he lied poorly. “Dad is ready to disown you forever. He said if you don't fix this by noon, you’re dead to this family.”
I pushed myself off the door, standing up straight. I walked over to the kitchen counter, picked up the three printed pages I had just pulled from the printer, and handed them to him.
Brandon looked down at the papers, his eyes scanning the bold headers.
WRIT OF POSSESSION / NOTICE TO QUIT.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“It’s an official eviction notice,” I explained, my voice as cold as the snow outside. “Effective immediately. All family members, guests, and unauthorized personnel currently occupying the Aspen Peak Mountain Lodge are in trespass. You have forty-eight hours to remove your personal belongings from the premises.”
Brandon stared at the paper as if it were written in a foreign language. Then, slowly, his expression morphed into pure, unadulterated rage.
“You’re evicting us? From our home?!”
“It’s not your home, Brandon,” I said. “It’s my property. And as of right now, your lease—which never existed, by the way—has been terminated.”
Brandon crumpled the papers in his fist, his knuckles turning white. He took a menacing step toward me, his height and bulk towering over my frame. For a second, I saw the exact same look in his eyes that I had seen the night before when he raised his hand to strike me.
The instinct to intimidate. The belief that physical presence and loud anger would force me to submit.
He raised his hand—not to slap me this time, but to swipe the stack of papers off the counter.
“You’re bluffing!” he roared.
Before his hand could hit the counter, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and tapped the screen once.
A recorded voice filled the quiet kitchen.
“...what is the meaning of this?!” (Graham’s voice from the phone call earlier).
Brandon froze, his hand suspended in mid-air.
“Every conversation I have with you, with Mother, and with Father is being recorded and automatically backed up to a secure cloud server,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “If you touch me, if you threaten me, or if you damage a single square inch of my property up on that mountain, I won't just evict you. I’ll hand this audio file directly to the district attorney’s office alongside the footage from the lodge’s security cameras.”
Brandon’s jaw dropped.
“Security cameras?” he whispered.
May you like
“Oh, did you forget?” I smiled coldly. “I installed a complete commercial surveillance system across the lodge last month. Every hallway. Every dining room. Including the spot right beside the sideboard where you lost your temper and assaulted your sister in front of twenty-seven witnesses.”
Brandon’s face drained of every drop of color. The furious, towering bully melted away in an instant, replaced by a terrified man realizing he had just walked into a buzzsaw.
