The process server immediately turned on his heel, walked back to his sedan, got in, and drove away without looking back.

On the driveway, Diane was shivering violently, her arms wrapped around herself as she glared at the two demolition workers.

The workers were using heavy crowbars to pry up the expensive, custom-stained cedar planks of the deck Brent had spent three weeks building.

A loud, splintering screech echoed through the quiet neighborhood as another long plank was ripped away from the joists.

Karen walked right up to the edge of the construction zone, pointing her finger at the foreman and yelling.

Her mouth opened and closed rapidly, her face contorted in anger, but the foreman just pointed to his clipboard and ignored her.

He waved his hand to a worker operating a yellow skid-steer loader, who began lifting a pile of broken wood into the massive steel dumpster.

Brent finally looked down at the envelope in his hands.

He tore the top open, pulled out the thick stack of papers, and began reading.

Even through the wide-angle lens of Arthur’s security camera, I could see the exact moment the color drained from his face.