Chapter 3 - The Forensic Eviction
At 3:15 PM, Skylar returned to the Edgewater apartment. She wasn't alone. Standing protectively behind her were Officer Martinez and Officer Silva, their presence a solid, unyielding shield against the possibility of Derek’s sudden return.
Skylar didn't waste a single second. She walked into the master bedroom and pulled her large, hardshell suitcases from the closet. With methodical, cold efficiency, she began packing her life away. She didn't cry. The physical pain in her face had subsided into a dull, throbbing ache, masked by the sheer, cold adrenaline of survival.
She packed her clothes, her work laptop, her external backup drives, and her grandmother’s gold jewelry. But she didn't stop there. She walked into the home office and retrieved a locked steel firebox from the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside were the original deeds, corporate registration files, and the purchase contract for the very apartment they lived in.
Derek had spent years calling it "my house," acting as if his name were carved into the foundation. But Skylar had purchased this property two years before she ever laid eyes on him, using the savings from eight grueling years of working seventy-hour weeks at a global logistics firm.
"Officer," Skylar said, looking at Martinez as she packed her high-end blue dinnerware—the plates she had bought with her own money. "The lease and the deed are solely in my name. My ex-husband has never contributed a single dollar to the mortgage or the utilities. Am I legally permitted to terminate his access to the property?"
"If you are the sole owner and have filed a domestic violence report with an active emergency protective order, yes," Martinez confirmed. "You have the legal right to change the locks immediately to ensure your safety."
"Good," Skylar said. She pulled out her phone and dialed a local emergency locksmith service she had contacted on the drive over. "They’ll be here in twenty minutes."
By 5:30 PM, the apartment was entirely hollowed out. All that remained of Skylar's presence were the empty hangers in the closet and the bare walls where her art had once hung. The apartment looked like a vacant shell, stripped of its warmth, leaving only the cold, sterile space Derek had tried so hard to dominate.
On the dark mahogany dining table, right in the center where the light from the chandelier hit it directly, Skylar left two items:
A copy of the certified police report detailing the domestic assault charges.
May you like
Her platinum wedding ring, placed directly on top of the document.
She walked out of the apartment, the locksmith securing the heavy deadbolt behind her with a brand-new, uncopyable smart-lock cylinder. She took the elevator down to the garage, loaded her suitcases into her car, and drove away without looking back.
