Chapter 4 - The Unbolting Begins
Richard’s chest heaved as he stared at my grandfather, desperately searching for any sign of a bluff. But Grandpa just popped open the tailgate of his truck, revealed a neat, organized array of heavy-duty power tools, and pulled out a Milwaukee cordless reciprocating saw with a vicious-looking metal-cutting blade.
"You've got two minutes to make a decision," Grandpa said pleasantly, checking his wristwatch. "My saw charges are fifty dollars an hour, but the noise disturbance early in the morning might wake up your lovely neighbors."
Inside the house, through the open front windows, we could hear several neighbors stepping out onto their manicured lawns to see what all the fuss was about. The last thing a snobbish, status-obsessed tech billionaire wanted in an exclusive gated community was a public spectacle involving county sheriffs and an angry carpenter tearing his newly renovated mansion apart.
"This is extortion!" Richard hissed, his voice cracking with rage as he fumbled frantically for his smartphone. "You're a criminal! I'm calling my corporate lawyers!"
"Go right ahead," Grandpa replied, plugging a battery into his drill with a satisfying click. "My lawyer drafted that clause airtight. While you're on hold with them, clock's ticking on that check."
Vanessa grabbed her husband’s arm, her face pale with humiliation as she spotted two neighbors down the street openly staring at the police cruiser parked in their driveway. "Richard, stop it! Just pay the damn man! Do you want the entire neighborhood watching them rip our living room apart?! Write the check right now!"
Defeated, humiliated, and backed entirely into a corner by his own staggering arrogance, Richard pulled up his mobile banking app with shaking fingers. He furiously tapped away at his screen, gritting his teeth so hard I thought they might shatter.
"Fine!" Richard barked, thrusting his phone screen toward Grandpa. "Look! I just initiated an instant wire transfer for six thousand four hundred dollars! Satisfied?!"
Grandpa walked over, peered down at the phone screen to verify that the digital confirmation had successfully cleared into his business account, and smiled warmly.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Sterling," Grandpa said cheerfully. He pulled a fresh, pre-written receipt from his pocket, stamped it boldly with a bright red PAID IN FULL ink stamp, and handed it to Richard. "Always remember: a man's signature is his bond."
Without another word, Grandpa tossed his tools back into the truck bed, slammed the tailgate shut, and walked over to me with a triumphant wink.
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"Come on, Maya," Grandpa said, opening the driver's side door of his truck. "Let's go get some pancakes. I'm buying."
As we drove away from the Sterling estate, I looked back in my side mirror and watched Richard and Vanessa standing miserably on their front porch in their bathrobes, glaring daggers at us while their neighbors openly whispered behind cupped hands.
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