Inside the living room, Vance just smirked. He pulled a sleek black smartphone from his suit jacket. He pressed a single button, connecting directly to the local precinct.
“Yes, sir,” Vance said, his voice easily audible through the glass. “The police are already on their way. But they aren’t coming to arrest us.”
A piercing, unmistakable wail of police sirens began to echo from down the street, rapidly approaching the front gates of the estate.
5. The Wedding Eviction
Three heavily marked police cruisers, their red and blue lights strobing violently in the fading afternoon sun, screeched to a halt at the front gates of the property.
Half a dozen uniformed officers quickly made their way around the side of the house to the backyard, hands resting on their utility belts. The scene they encountered was one of absolute, humiliating chaos.
The wedding guests were murmuring frantically. Nicole’s father, a prominent local judge, was screaming at my father, demanding an explanation. Nicole was sitting on a stone bench, sobbing hysterically into her hands, her immaculate makeup ruined. Dalton was still pounding on the glass, looking like a feral animal trapped outside a cage.
“Alright, listen up!” the police chief announced, raising a portable bullhorn to his mouth. The piercing feedback silenced the crowd. “Everyone needs to step away from the residence and move toward the exit immediately.”
“Officer!” Dalton cried, running toward the chief, his tuxedo jacket torn at the seam from his frantic pounding. “Thank God you’re here! Those men broke into my house and locked us out in the middle of my wedding reception! Arrest them!”
The police chief looked at Dalton with a mixture of pity and severe irritation. He pulled a folded legal document from his breast pocket.
“Sir, are you Dalton Vance?” the chief asked.
“Yes! It’s my house!”
