Chapter 9 - The Family Barrister
At eight o'clock the following morning, the glass doors of the pediatric ward parted for a man who looked like an apex predator in a tailored pinstripe suit.
He carried a slim leather briefcase and walked with the unhurried swagger of an attorney who charged two thousand dollars an hour.
"Nora Caldwell?" he asked, stopping outside the nursery curtain.
"Who are you?" I demanded, standing defensively between him and Lily's bassinet.
"Julian Mercer," he answered smoothly, withdrawing an engraved business card. "Senior partner at Mercer & Vance. I represent Dr. Arthur Vance and the Caldwell Family Trust."
Arthur Caldwell slowly rose from his armchair, his cane thudding against the floor. "You’re off your reservation, Julian."
Mercer’s smile tightened, his polished facade cracking for the briefest instant as his eyes took in the older man. "Arthur. I wondered when you'd surface from the dead. But your vintage 1974 trust doesn't supersede a modern UCC fixture filing."
Mercer turned back to me, unzipping his leather case to extract a crisp, blue-backed document.
"Mrs. Caldwell, I am serving you with an immediate notice of default and statutory eviction," Mercer said, his voice ringing with calculated malice. "Ryan failed to meet the debt-service ratio on the Highland Park estate as of midnight. The property has been seized by Apex Capital."
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"My seven-day-old infant was discharged from intensive care two hours ago," I said, taking a step toward him. "You think a Texas judge will allow you to evict a nursing mother whose child was chemically poisoned?"
"The deed isn't in your name, Mrs. Caldwell," Mercer replied with a condescending smirk. "It belongs to the LLC. And in Texas, commercial foreclosures are non-judicial. The locks are being changed as we speak."
