They ignored us, hoping we'd leave. The logic of a child hiding under the covers.
The officer slammed the door again, harder this time.
"Dominique and Hunter Sterling! We have a court order for your immediate eviction. Open this door or we'll break it down."
The lock finally clicked.
The door cracked open.
Dominique peered outside.
She looked terrible.
Unwashed hair pulled back into a messy bun. A silk robe with a coffee stain. Eyes darting back and forth like a trapped animal, searching for a way out.
"What do you want?" she hissed. "We're asleep. You can't just bang on someone's door."
The officer didn't make a sound. He held up the papers.
"Ma'am, you were issued a notice to vacate the property thirty days ago. The deadline has passed." The property has been seized by the bailiff and sold to a new owner. You have ten minutes to gather your most important personal belongings and vacate the premises.
Dominika laughed shrilly, almost hysterically.
"Sold? That's impossible. This is my mother's house. I'm the heir. You can't sell it without my consent. There's been a mistake. Check your documents."
"There's no mistake," the officer said, approaching.
He used his shoulder to gently but firmly open the door.
"The debt has been collected. The transfer of ownership has taken place. You're trespassing."
Dominika tried to stop him with her body.
"No, I'm not going anywhere. This is my house. My name is in the will..."
Then she saw me at the bottom of the stairs.
Her eyes widened with anger.
"You!" she shouted, pointing at me. "You did this. You told them to come here."
I climbed until I was face to face with her. I could smell the stale smell of alcohol on her breath.
"I didn't tell them to come here, Dominique," I said calmly. "I hired them."
"What?" she whispered.
I pulled the deed from my bag, the same document I'd signed at the auction.
"I told you at the hotel," I said. "I own the debt. And since you refused to return the stolen money, I now claim the rights of the new owner."
I nodded at the movers.
"Clean this up," I said. "Anything that doesn't belong to Estelle Vance must be kept."
Dominique screamed as the movers pushed past her.
They burst into the living room and began gathering up everything that looked like it belonged to Dominique and Hunter. They weren't interested in designer clothes.
The pillows flew onto the lawn.
Boxes of expensive sneakers were strewn about like garbage.
"Stop!" Dominique shouted, chasing a mover carrying her jewelry box. "It's Cartier! Don't touch it!"
A policeman stopped her.
"Ma'am, step outside. Please don't interfere, or I'll arrest you for obstruction."
I entered the house.
It smelled neglected.
Pizza boxes were piled on my mother's antique dining table. Empty wine bottles littered the floor.
The safe haven of my youth is treated like a frat house.
Something broke in my chest.
I went to the kitchen, expecting to find Hunter fighting.
Haggling.
Threatening.
The kitchen was empty.
The back door was wide open, swinging gently in the breeze.
I went to the window and looked into the alley.
A figure was running away with a heavy duffel bag.
Hunter.
He didn't try to save his wife. He didn't try to save anything.
He grabbed everything he could carry and ran.
I turned and went back to the living room.
Dominik was arguing with the mover about a fur coat.
"Let me go!" she screamed. "My husband will sue you!"
"Hunter! Hunter, come here!"
I cleared my throat from the hallway.
"He can't hear you, Dominique."
She froze, clutching her coat.
I pointed to the open back door.
"He's gone," I said. "I just saw him run into the alley."
Dominik's face slowly changed as she realized what had happened.
She ran to the kitchen, screamed his name—raw, animalistic, betrayed—and ran out the back door.
The alley was empty.
Hunter had left her alone to face the police, eviction, and poverty.
She returned inside, feeling smaller, drained of all her strength.
The officers led her outside.
She sat on the porch, surrounded by piles of clothes and boxes of knickknacks.
Neighbors watched her from their porches, no longer condemning, just tired.
I stepped out onto the porch and looked down at her.
"Don't you have anywhere else to go?" I asked.
Dominik
