Chapter 6 - The Setup
The tension in Columbus was reaching a boiling point. Denise’s legal team was pushing hard,
sending daily demands for financial disclosures and trying to force my dad into a corner. But
Denise wasn't satisfied with just a legal battle. She wanted to crush my dad completely, to make
sure he had absolutely no fight left in him.
One rainy Tuesday afternoon, my dad received a phone call from our old neighbor, Mr.
Harrison.
“Richard, I think you need to come over to the house,” Mr. Harrison said, his voice hushed and
anxious. “Denise is loading a moving truck. But it’s not just her stuff. She’s packing up everything.
Your electronics, your mother’s old antique cabinet, even the girls’ bedroom furniture. I saw her
throwing some of the girls' old toys into a dumpster at the curb.”
My dad’s face flushed with a dangerous, dark red. “She’s doing what?”
“She’s clearing the place out, Richard,” Mr. Harrison said. “You need to get down here and stop
her before she leaves nothing but bare walls.”
My dad stood up, his fists clenched. “I’m going over there.”
“Dad, no!” I cried, grabbing his arm. “Remember what Marcus said! It’s a bait. She’s trying to
get you to react. If you go there and yell at her, she’ll call the police and get a restraining order!”
“She is throwing away your mother’s things, Chloe!” Dad shouted, his voice cracking with a
pain that went straight to my heart. “The antique cabinet was Sarah’s grandmother’s. It’s the only
piece of furniture we have left from her family. I can't let her destroy your mother's memory!”
He was too angry, too hurt to listen to reason. He grabbed his car keys and marched out the
door. I knew I couldn't let him go alone. If he snapped, Denise would win the entire case right
then and there. I scrambled after him, jumping into the passenger seat just as he backed the car
out of the driveway.
When we arrived at our old house, the scene was exactly as Mr. Harrison had described. A
large yellow moving truck was parked in the driveway. Several movers were carrying furniture
out of the front door. And there, standing on the front porch in a pristine trench coat, holding a
clipboard, was Denise.
She looked up as our car slammed to a halt. A slow, victorious smile spread across her lips.
My dad threw his car door open and marched up the driveway, his chest heaving. “Stop this
right now!” he yelled. “You have no right to touch my family's heirlooms, Denise! The court
ordered a temporary freeze on assets!”
Denise didn't flinch. Instead, she turned to the lead mover. “Please excuse us for a moment,”
she said sweetly.
Once the movers walked back toward the truck, Denise turned to my dad, her eyes flashing
with a wicked amusement. “Oh, Richard. I knew you couldn't resist. You’re so predictable.”
“Put the cabinet back, Denise,” Dad said, his voice shaking with a dangerous level of anger. He
took a step toward her.
“Or what?” Denise challenged, stepping closer to him, her voice a soft, venomous hiss. “What
are you going to do, Richard? Hit me? Please, do it. I have a security camera right above the door.
If you touch me, or even look like you’re going to, I’ll have the police here in three minutes. You’ll
spend the night in jail, and the judge will hand me Ava on a silver platter tomorrow.”
I stepped in between them, looking Denise dead in the eyes. “We’re not going to touch you,” I
said, my voice cold and calm. “But we’re watching you. And the world is going to see exactly who
you are.”
Denise laughed, a high, mocking sound. “Oh, Chloe. You’re just a stupid little girl. You think
you’re smart, but you’re nothing. Just like your dead mother.”
Before my dad could react to the insult, I grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the car.
“Dad, let’s go. Please. It’s not worth it. We have to trust the court.”
As we drove away, my dad’s hands shook so hard on the steering wheel he had to pull over to
the side of the road. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent, heavy
May you like
tears. I wrapped my arms around him, realizing with absolute certainty that we were fighting for
our very lives against a woman who had no soul.
