Then he added,
“That isn’t revenge. It’s enforcement. And perhaps, in Walter’s own way, justice.”
So on that July afternoon, while the Monroes celebrated at their steakhouse in Buckhead, Daniel and I drove toward Habersham Road.
Because earlier that morning, almost immediately after the divorce became final, another judge had signed the order terminating Patricia’s life estate.
A different proceeding.
A different case.
One Patricia’s attorney hadn’t been watching because they didn’t even know the trust existed.
By the time the ink dried on my divorce decree, Patricia’s right to occupy the house had legally ended.
I was no longer simply the remainder beneficiary.
I had full possession.
The house was mine.
And the Fulton County Sheriff’s Office was prepared to enforce the order.
When Daniel and I arrived, the moving company was already there.
Six professional movers.
A locksmith.
A sheriff’s deputy.
