Chapter 6 - Lorraine's True Colors Unmasked
At 11:50 a.m., the convoy of two marked sheriff cruisers, followed by Victoria’s black luxury sedan, pulled up to the gates of 742 Oakridge Terrace.
The driveway was packed. Daniel’s silver BMW was parked haphazardly across the grass, and a white commercial moving van was backed up toward the front entrance. Daniel and Lorraine were actively directing two hired laborers who were carrying my late Aunt Clara’s antique rosewood sideboard out through the front double doors.
“Stop right there!” Deputy Chief Miller shouted over his cruiser’s loudspeaker as the sirens gave a short, sharp wail.
Four deputies stepped out of their vehicles, hands resting authoritatively on their duty belts.
Daniel froze on the porch steps, dropping a box of fine crystal silverware onto the stone walkway. The glass shattered violently inside the cardboard.
Lorraine stormed down the steps like an enraged hen, waving a wooden spatula in the air. “What is the meaning of this harassment?! My son just posted bail! You have no right to terrorize an elderly woman in her own family home!”
Deputy Chief Miller stepped forward, holding the bright red eviction notice and the certified court order directly in Lorraine’s face.
“Lorraine Vance, you are currently trespassing on private property owned exclusively by Elena Vance. Under the authority of the Superior Court, you and Daniel Vance have fifteen minutes to vacate these premises immediately. Any property removed from this house that is not personal clothing will result in immediate felony theft charges.”
Lorraine’s face turned an ugly shade of purple. She spotted Victoria’s car parked at the curb and saw me sitting safely in the passenger seat behind tinted windows.
With a shriek of blind rage, Lorraine sprinted toward the car, banging her fists against the passenger window.
“You treacherous little viper!” Lorraine screamed, saliva hitting the glass. “You ruined my son! You poisoned his life! Everything in that house belongs to Daniel! You’re nothing without him! Come out here and face me!”
Suddenly, realizing the deputies were moving in to grab her, Lorraine threw herself backward onto the manicured grass, clutching her hip and wailing theatrically: “Help! She hit me! She ran me over with the car! The deputies are assaulting a senior citizen!”
Deputy Chief Miller didn’t even blink. He pointed directly to the high-definition security camera mounted on the brick gatepost right above her head.
May you like
“Ma'am, get up,” Miller said with cold disgust. “The gate camera just recorded you throwing yourself onto the lawn without anyone touching you. If you don’t stand up and get into a taxi within ten minutes, you will be booked into county jail for filing a false police report and disorderly conduct.”
Lorraine’s theatrical wailing stopped instantly. She scrambled to her feet, her expensive wig askew, realizing her lifelong game of manipulation and fake victimhood had completely failed.
