Chapter 6 - The Return to the Ruins
Grant booked the earliest economy-class flights back to Denver late Thursday night, using the last fifty dollars of physical cash he had in his wallet to pay for a taxi to Miami International Airport. Elaine and Brooke were forced to abandon their luxury shopping bags at the hotel, as the Fontainebleau manager demanded immediate settlement of their pending bill before allowing them to check out. When their cards failed, the resort confiscated their luggage as collateral until the debt was satisfied.
By 7:00 AM on Friday morning, Grant, Elaine, and Brooke arrived at the grand entrance gates of Cedar Ridge Lane, disheveled, exhausted, and wearing the same clothes they had worn two days prior.
The heavy black iron gates were locked tight. A sleek black security SUV was parked just inside the perimeter, bearing the gold emblem of Apex Security Enforcement.
Grant rushed up to the intercom speaker, slamming his fist against the metal box. "Open this gate! I live here! I am Grant Vance!"
The electric window of the security SUV rolled down. A burly guard in a tactical vest stepped out, walking slowly toward the gate, holding a digital tablet.
"Mr. Grant Vance?" the guard asked calmly.
"Yes! Open the gate right now!" Grant demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. "My wife and daughter are inside! This is my home!"
"Sir, this property is the exclusive private asset of Apex Capital Holdings," the guard replied, showing Grant the screen on his tablet. "A temporary restraining order was issued yesterday by Judge Henderson of the Boulder District Court. You, Elaine Vance, and Brooke Miller are legally prohibited from approaching within five hundred yards of this property or approaching Mrs. Lena Vance and her minor child, Ava Vance."
Elaine gasped, grabbing the iron bars of the gate. "That's absurd! My son built his life here! All our clothes, our jewelry, our family heirlooms are inside that mansion!"
"Any personal property left on these premises after the execution of the sales contract becomes the property of the buyer," the guard quoted coldly. "However, Mrs. Vance was generous enough to instruct us to place three cardboard boxes containing your basic clothing items outside the service gate."
The guard pointed to three plain brown boxes sitting on the wet gravel beside the driveway.
Brooke ran over to the boxes, tearing them open, weeping hysterically as she saw her cheap sweatpants and t-shirts neatly packed inside, while her expensive designer gowns and diamond necklaces remained locked inside the master walk-in closet.
"Where is she?!" Grant screamed at the guard, tears of rage and humiliation streaming down his face. "Where is my wife?!"
"Mrs. Vance is in a secure, private location preparing for her final closing proceedings," the guard said, turning his back on them. "Leave the area immediately, or I will contact the Sheriff's Department to execute your arrest for violating the restraining order."
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Grant fell to his knees in the cold gravel outside the gates he had so arrogantly locked three days earlier. He looked at the grand stone facade of Cedar Ridge glowing in the morning sun—the house he had bragged about to his clients, the estate he had used to elevate his social status, the sanctuary he had thought he could steal from a mother and her newborn child.
He had lost it all. And he hadn't even seen the legal storm that was about to hit him next.
