Chapter 4 - Eviction Notice
"Get them out of my sight," I commanded, my voice echoing with absolute sovereign authority across the silent ballroom.
Nathan snapped his fingers. Four of the tactical security guards moved instantly, flanking Everett and his mother before they could even process the command.
"You can't do this!" Diane shrieked, thrashing wildly as a guard gently but firmly gripped her arm. "I am the matriarch of this family! This is our society! You're a nobody, Claire! A parasite!"
"A parasite?" I laughed, a cold, melodic sound that carried no warmth whatsoever. "For ten years, every single high-society gala you attended, every charity board seat you bought, every designer gown you wore—it was all funded by dividends from my personal trust. You were living in my house, eating off my plates, and mocking the woman who paid for your lifestyle."
Everett looked up, his eyes bloodshot, desperation bleeding into every pore of his face. "Claire... please. We've been married for ten years. We built a life together. Don't do this over a mistake! I was just... Vanessa meant nothing to me! Please!"
I looked down at him—at the man who had screamed 'You barren leech!' less than ten minutes ago, throwing his ring at my feet like I was a stray dog.
"Ten years, Everett," I said softly, my voice dropping into a register that sent a shiver through every person listening in the ballroom. "Ten years I spent hiding my true identity, letting you take credit for my engineering breakthroughs, enduring your mother's daily psychological torture, and listening to you tell me I was worthless because I couldn't give you a child—when in reality, I simply refused to bring a child into a marriage with a monster."
I tossed his gold wedding ring right back onto his chest. It bounced off his Brioni jacket and rolled across the floor.
"Pack your bags, Everett. The Westchester County estate is currently being seized by federal marshals. Your three supercars have already been clamped and loaded onto flatbed tow trucks parked outside on Fifth Avenue. You are officially homeless, broke, and unemployed."
With a flick of my wrist, I signaled the guards.
"Take the trash out."
As Everett, Diane, and Vanessa were physically dragged backward out of the grand ballroom—screaming, kicking, and clawing at the expensive drapery—the remaining guests stood frozen, not a single soul daring to breathe too loudly in my presence.
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Arthur Vance slowly stepped forward, bowing his head deeply, his expression a mix of profound shock and immense respect.
"Madame Chairwoman," Arthur murmured, his voice trembling slightly. "On behalf of the board of directors... we await your instructions for tomorrow morning's emergency restructuring."
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