Chapter 4 - The Clean Sweep
While Landon was busy making frantic phone calls from the hotel lobby, Brit, Keeley, and I were already in an Uber heading toward Phoenix Sky Harbor.
We caught the red-eye flight back to Colorado, the hum of the jet engines providing a soothing rhythm to my racing thoughts.
For the first time in two years, the suffocating knot in my chest had loosened.
I didn't feel broken; I felt clear-headed, sharp, and entirely focused on survival.
My brother, Mark, who ran a commercial security company in Denver, was waiting for us at the front door of our suburban home at 6:00 A.M.
Beside him on the driveway sat a heavy-duty rental truck and three professional movers holding industrial packing boxes.
"Are you sure you want to do it this way, Harp?" Mark asked gently, wrapping his arms around me in a crushing embrace.
"Every single item that belongs to him, Mark," I answered without hesitation. "I don't want to see a single sock when he returns."
By noon, the master bedroom looked unrecognizable.
Landon’s bespoke suits, his Italian leather shoes, his golf clubs, and his high-end electronics were methodically packed and labeled.
We loaded everything into a climate-controlled storage unit three miles from the airport, paying for three months upfront.
I left the key to the storage unit in an envelope with his brother, along with the official court notice.
At 1:30 P.M., the locksmith finished rekeying the deadbolts on the front door, the garage entrance, and the patio French doors.
He handed me four shiny brass keys, testing each lock twice to ensure perfect security.
I walked into our empty bedroom, looking at the dresser where Landon’s watch collection used to sit.
There was a light rectangular patch on the dark mahogany wood where his valet tray had rested for a decade.
I ran my finger over the clean wood, feeling no grief, only the profound relief of a woman reclaiming her sanctuary.
My phone vibrated on the mattress; it was an incoming call from our joint private banker, Marcus.
"Mrs. Hayes, good afternoon," Marcus said cautiously. "I'm calling regarding an attempted wire transfer of eighty thousand dollars from the primary liquidity account."
I sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking a slow breath. "Who initiated the transfer, Marcus?"
"Mr. Hayes called twenty minutes ago from an Arizona area code," Marcus replied. "He requested an immediate transfer to an offshore corporate account."
"Freeze the account under the emergency court order filed with your compliance department this morning, Marcus," I said firmly.
"Understood, Mrs. Hayes. The assets are locked until further judicial instruction."
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Landon wasn't just trying to cover his travel expenses; he was trying to liquidate our marital assets before the court could freeze them.
The battle wasn't going to be a quiet divorce; it was going to be an all-out war for everything I had spent twelve years helping him build.
