Chapter 3 - The Summons at the Office
Jason Bennett was sitting in his glass-walled corner office on the thirty-second floor of the Bennett & Associates building, rubbing his left cheek.
The three slaps I had delivered across his face the night before had left a faint, yellowish discoloration over his jawline, a constant physical reminder that his world was fracturing.
His desk phone buzzed shrilly. He picked it up with an annoyed sigh. “I told my secretary I’m not taking calls right now, Linda. Unless it’s the zoning board—”
“Mr. Jason Bennett?” a sharp, formal voice interrupted from the other end of the line.
Jason frowned. “Yes? Who is this?”
“My name is Marcus Vance, senior bailiff and process server for the Cook County Circuit Court. I am currently standing at the security desk in the lobby of your building with a stack of emergency legal documents for you.”
Jason let out an incredulous, nervous laugh. “Legal documents? Look, you must have the wrong person. Whatever corporate dispute you’re talking about—”
“This is not a corporate dispute, Mr. Bennett,” Marcus interrupted, his tone chillingly flat. “This is an emergency petition for dissolution of marriage, full sole custody of your minor child, an immediate restraining order preventing you or your mother from coming within five hundred feet of your wife or daughter, a criminal complaint for failure to protect a minor, and a federal asset-freeze injunction covering all personal, joint, and corporate accounts tied to your name.”
The color drained instantly from Jason’s face. He stood up so fast his ergonomic chair rolled backward and slammed into the wood-paneled wall behind him.
“An asset freeze? Restraining order?” Jason choked out, his voice cracking into a panicked squeak. “Are you out of your mind? My wife can’t do that! She doesn't even have a lawyer! She’s a stay-at-home mother with zero financial resources!”
“Sir, I am standing here with papers signed by Judge Harrison twenty minutes ago,” Marcus replied smoothly. “Furthermore, federal marshals have already served your mother, Diane Bennett, at her Lincoln Park condominium with a criminal citation for aggravated battery of a minor. I suggest you contact your legal counsel immediately. Good day, Mr. Bennett.”
Click.
The dial tone hummed in Jason’s ear.
For a long moment, Jason stood frozen in the center of his expensive office, the hum of the city fading into a terrifying, suffocating silence. He looked down at his desk—at the framed family photo of him, Diane, and Brooke smiling coldly while I stood awkwardly off to the side, cropped almost out of the frame.
Panic seized him. He grabbed his cell phone, his fingers trembling so badly he dropped it twice before managing to dial his mother’s number.
It rang three times. Then a frantic, high-pitched voice answered.
“Jason! Jason, thank God! Some men in suits just came to my condo! They served me with police papers! They’re saying I’m being charged with child abuse! You have to fix this! Call your lawyer! Call someone!”
“Mom, calm down!” Jason yelled, his own voice cracking with hysteria. “I just got served too! They froze my accounts! All of them! Our corporate cards, our personal checking, Dad’s estate accounts—everything is locked!”
“Locked?” Diane shrieked so loudly Jason had to pull the phone away from his ear. “What are you talking about locked? Who did this? That little nobody wife of yours couldn't possibly—!”
“She did it, Mom!” Jason screamed, the horrifying reality finally crashing down on his skull. “She did it! She’s not who you thought she was! She had lawyers! She had files! She had—God, Mom, she had pictures of everything!”
On the other end of the line, Diane went dead silent.
For thirty years, Diane Bennett had ruled her family like an untouchable queen, believing that wealth, social standing, and intimidation could shield her from consequences.
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Now, standing in her immaculate living room surrounded by the white roses from her ruined birthday party, the queen realized her throne had just been pulled out from under her.
And the girl she thought she had conquered was holding the axe.
