Chapter 4 - The Stripping of Masks
"This is completely illegal!" Julian roared, his voice cracking into an undignified falsetto. He pulled his smartphone from his robe pocket and dialed his corporate attorney, David Ross.
"Julian," Ross answered on the second ring, his tone dry and distinctly unhelpful. "I was just about to call you."
"David! Get the county sheriff on the phone right now! There are deputies in my foyer trying to evict me from my own home!"
There was a long, painful silence on the other end of the line. When Ross spoke, his voice was weighed down with professional exhaustion.
"Julian... don't make a scene. Clara filed the partition and trust enforcement papers two months ago. You ignored three formal service summonses because you thought they were routine divorce filings. The penthouse isn't in your name. It never was. Clara put up the collateral from her mother's estate. The trust owns the unit, the furnishings, the art collection, and the wine cellar."
Julian’s vision blurred. A ringing sound began in his ears, high and piercing. "What about my office? What about Vance Holdings?"
"Vance Holdings had its board meeting at seven o’clock this morning," Ross said bluntly. "The institutional creditors called the balloon loans. Clara purchased the distressed debt notes through her private investment fund yesterday afternoon. She holds eighty-four percent of the voting shares as of thirty minutes ago. You are no longer the CEO, Julian. You are out."
The phone slid an inch through Julian's numb fingers.
In the living room, the movers moved with surgical speed. They did not touch the artwork or the grand piano. Instead, they placed large cardboard wardrobe boxes in the center of the floor.
"Twenty minutes, Mr. Vance," the deputy announced, checking his wristwatch.
Chloe stood in the middle of the room, her eyes darting frantically from the police officers to the bare floor where her expensive luggage had not even been unpacked. Her sweet, demure demeanor vanished, replaced by a sharp, calculating anger.
"You told me you owned this entire building!" she shrieked at Julian, her voice grating and hostile. "You told me you were worth seventy million dollars!"
"I am! I will be! This is a technicality!" Julian pleaded, reaching out for her hand, but Chloe violently slapped his arm away.
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"You're broke," she spat, her lip curling in revulsion. "You're getting thrown out like a common squatter! Don't you dare touch me!"
She marched into the bedroom, snatched her designer purse and the two overnight bags she had arrived with, and stormed toward the front door. She didn't look back at Julian once. The illusion had shattered, and the gold she had chased was revealed to be nothing more than tarnished brass.
