Chapter 5 - THE SERVING AT THE OFFICE
The offices of Apex Medical Distribution—where Grant served as regional logistics director—occupied the entire ninth floor of a limestone building in the West Loop.
At 4:15 P.M., Grant was sitting at his glass-topped executive desk reviewing shipping manifests when two men in dark suits stepped past his open office door.
One of them was a court-appointed process server.
The other was an independent witness from Rebecca’s firm.
According to the affidavit filed later that evening, Grant didn't yell. He didn't threaten to call security. He simply turned pale, his mouth dropping open as he read the bold header at the top of the first page:
IN THE CIRCUIT COURT OF COOK COUNTY, ILLINOIS — EMERGENCY RESTRAINING ORDER AND ASSET FREEZING INJUNCTION.
Within ten minutes of being served, my phone rang.
I was sitting in Rebecca’s office reviewing the final draft of our temporary custody filing when the caller ID flashed Grant Mobile.
I let it ring three times, listening to the electronic pulse echo in the quiet room, before tapping accept and putting it on speakerphone.
“Mara!” Grant’s voice erupted through the speaker, frantic, breathless, and entirely stripped of its morning arrogance. “What is the meaning of this?! Are you insane?! I just had two federal-looking thugs walk into my office and hand me a court order freezing every bank account, every credit card, and every corporate ledger I touch!”
“They aren't federal thugs, Grant,” I said, keeping my voice level, clear, and utterly calm. “They’re court officers. And they’re enforcing an emergency asset freeze on Blue Ridge Horizon LLC.”
There was a choking sound on the other end of the line.
“You... you actually filed?” he whispered, disbelief bleeding into his panic. “You filed for divorce over a family disagreement?! Over a vacation request?!”
“I didn't file for divorce over a vacation request, Grant,” I replied. “I filed for divorce because you stole three hundred and forty thousand dollars of my pre-marital savings to buy real estate for your mother and sister without telling me.”
Silence descended on the line. A heavy, suffocating silence that told me he knew the game was up.
“Mara... listen to me,” his voice dropped into a desperate, wheedling register—the same tone he used when he was trying to convince me his mother’s latest medical emergency wasn't just another shopping spree. “We can fix this. We can sit down with Mom and Kelsey. We can dissolve the LLC and put the properties back into your name! We don't need to involve lawyers! Think of Noah! What are you telling our son by blowing up our family over money?!”
“I’m telling our son that nobody—not a husband, not a mother-in-law, and not a corporate shell company—has the right to steal from you while pretending to love you,” I said.
“Mara, please—!”
“Don't call this number again, Grant,” I interrupted. “From now on, all communication goes through Rebecca Vance. If you show up at the house, the security system you installed will automatically notify the sheriff. Pack your bags tonight. You’re going to need a hotel.”
I tapped the red button, ending the call before he could speak another word.
May you like
I looked up at Rebecca, who was watching me with a warm, approving smile.
“Well handled, Mrs. Whitfield,” she said. “Now, let’s talk about protecting your home and securing primary custody of Noah before Diane and Kelsey realize they’ve been cut off from the gravy train.”
