Chapter 4 - The Tables Turn Completely
Before Nicolás or Marina could process the full weight of my words, the heavy double doors of the conservatory swung open once more. This time, two local sheriff's deputies stepped into the room, their uniforms crisp and their expressions entirely businesslike.
The murmurs among the guests instantly died away. The only sound in the grand room was the gentle splashing of the fountain outside and Marina’s ragged, shallow breathing.
"Mrs. Miller?" the lead deputy asked, looking directly at me.
"Over here, Officer," I replied, holding up the sealed manila envelope and the brass key. "My name is Celia Miller. I am the sole owner of this property."
The deputy nodded respectfully, stepping past the stunned group of guests and stopping directly in front of Marina and Nicolás. He pulled a folded legal document from his breast pocket.
"Marina Vance and Nicolás Miller, you are both named in an emergency civil restraining order and property lockout issued by Superior Court Judge Harrison," the deputy announced clearly. "You are required to vacate the premises immediately. Any attempt to remove property other than personal clothing will be treated as grand larceny."
Marina screamed, a high-pitched sound of absolute panic and rage. "You can't do this! This is our home! She's crazy, she's senile, she fell down the stairs! Look at her, she's hallucinating!"
She lunged forward, her hand reaching toward her wrist as if to protect the emerald bracelet, but Gabriel stepped smoothly into her path, blocking her way.
"Take that off," Gabriel said quietly, his voice like ice.
Marina glared at him, her eyes wild with fury. "It was a gift! She gave it to me!"
"She never gave you a damn thing," I said, stepping up to her and holding out my hand. "Take off my husband's anniversary gift, Marina. Right now. Or I will have the deputies charge you with armed robbery on top of forgery and assault."
Trembling with rage and humiliation, Marina frantically unclasped the emerald bracelet from her wrist and dropped it roughly into my palm. The stones were still warm from her skin, but as I closed my fingers around them, I felt only the clean, sharp weight of justice.
Nicolás looked around the room, desperately seeking support from the guests he had tried to impress just twenty minutes earlier. But Arturo turned his back, and Beatriz looked away in absolute disgust. No one would meet his eyes. Everyone in high society knew when a ship was sinking, and Nicolás’s vessel was already underwater.
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"Pack your bags, Nicolás," I said coldly, turning my back on my son. "You have thirty minutes to clear your things out of the guest wing before the locks are changed permanently."
The deputies stepped closer, gesturing toward the main hallway. Defeated, broken, and stripped of the arrogant armor they had worn all afternoon, Nicolás and Marina turned and walked out of the conservatory in total, humiliating silence.
