"in other news, the tv psychologist dr phil now has pending allegations of assault against him by a former guest. his trial is scheduled to take place next week," the news anchor says while a video of dr phil on the red carpet plays on your tv screen.
"i can't believe i'm taking the man i once loved to court," you say into your bowl of cereal.
"it's what we have to do, y/n. this is our chance to make up the money from all those failed rehab centers we sent your sister to before the show," your mom explains.
"dr phil, the host of the most watched daytime television show, has an extended contract with cbs network, that was supposed to extend his show into 2020. the fate of his show may now lie on the results of this trial."
as the new's anchors report ended and she began to discuss some celebrity's attire at a red carpet event, you hear the door bell ring.
you walk to the door, but once you open it you find no one is there. you look down, thinking it must've been a package, but all that appears to be there is a small blue envolope. you pick it up and realize there is no stamp or return address on it, meaning this letter must've been hand delivered. you look around but there is no one outside except for your usual neighbors walking their dogs across the street and too far and calm to have delivered this letter just a few seconds ago.
you slowly back inside and return to the couch, questioning the whether or not it is safe to open the envelope.
"what's that sweetie?" your mom asks, setting down her bowl of cereal while gazing confusedly at the envelope.
you don't answer, instead you begin opening the envelope carefully, which reveals a piece of paper with small handwriting on it.
drop the charges and i'll drop the gun.
"m-mom," you cry out.
