Chapter 1 - The Trap is Sprung
Daniel didn't notice the ring at first. He walked into the kitchen at 5:00 PM, his mind already spending the forty thousand dollars he assumed Claire would eventually hand over. He expected to find her crying in the bedroom, nursing her burn, and eager to please him just to stop the cold shoulder. Instead, the house was dead silent.
When his eyes finally landed on the breakfast table, he froze. There, sitting right next to the dried, brown stain of the coffee he had hurled at her, was Claire’s platinum wedding band.
"Stupid, dramatic woman," Daniel muttered, snatching up the ring. He dialed her number, ready to unleash a torrent of verbal abuse disguised as "tough love."
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
A cold prickle of unease washed over him. He tried again. Same automated voice. He stormed up the stairs to their master bedroom and yanked open her closet. It wasn't completely empty, but her favorite clothes, her laptop, and her legal documents were gone. Daniel’s phone rang, vibrating violently in his palm. It was Vanessa.
"Daniel! Have you talked to Claire?" Vanessa’s voice was uncharacteristically panicked. "I just tried to use the temporary business credit line you set up for me through your joint account. It was declined! The banker told me the account is frozen due to 'pending litigation'!"
"What? That’s impossible," Daniel stammered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "She’s a freelance designer, Vanessa. She doesn't know how to freeze accounts. I control the household finances!"
"Well, someone froze it!" Vanessa shrieked. "And Daniel... there's a man in a suit standing outside my apartment building right now. He’s been there for an hour."
Daniel hung up, panic finally clawing at his throat. He ran downstairs to his home office, booting up his computer to check his personal bank balances. But before the screen could even load, the heavy oak front door of his house shuddered under three massive knocks.
Daniel hurried to the door, pulling it open, expecting Claire. Instead, he was met by two uniformed police officers and a stern-faced woman in a sharp grey suit.
"Daniel Vance?" the woman asked.
"Yes? Who are you?"
"I am Miriam Cole, legal counsel for Claire Vance," the woman said, handing him a thick packet of documents. "You are being served with a temporary restraining order. You have exactly twenty minutes to pack a single bag of essentials and vacate these premises. This property is registered solely under Claire’s late father's trust, and your access has been legally revoked."
"You can't do this! This is my house!" Daniel yelled, his face turning purple.
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"Mr. Vance," one of the police officers stepped forward, his hand resting casually on his holster. "Your wife filed a report at St. Catherine’s Hospital this morning, backed by forensic medical evidence of domestic assault. If you do not step away from the property willingly, we will arrest you right now for felony battery."
As Daniel stood paralyzed by shock, his computer in the other room chimed loudly. An email had just arrived. The subject line read: The Audit is Complete.
