Chapter 4 - The Eviction
Grant looked at me, then at the front window, where the faint glow of red and blue emergency lights suddenly flickered against the oak trees lining our front lawn.
Natalie Brooks had not just sent a warning; she had coordinated with the white-collar crimes unit of the local police department. The forensic paper trail we had assembled over eleven months was so airtight that the district attorney had signed off on a preliminary arrest warrant the moment Grant attempted to breach the corporate asset injunction.
“You set me up,” Grant breathed, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of awe and pure hatred. “You brought me here tonight... you let me bring Tessa here...”
“You brought Tessa here yourself, Grant,” I corrected sharply. “You wanted to break me in front of your family. You wanted to humiliate me so completely that I would sign whatever settlement papers your lawyers threw at me tomorrow. You were greedy, you were arrogant, and you underestimated the woman who kept your life running for nine years.”
Tessa was already sprinting toward the front door, her designer heels sliding on the rug as she frantically grabbed her handbag from the foyer table. “I’m leaving! Grant, I’m not going to jail for you! You told me your wife was stupid!”
“Tessa, wait!” Grant yelled, but she opened the heavy oak door and fled into the dark night, her panicked sobs echoing down the driveway.
Julian stood up so fast his chair fell backward with a loud crash. “I... I didn't know anything about Panama, Maya! I swear to God! Grant just told me to drive over for dinner!” Julian bolted out the door right behind Tessa, leaving his mother sitting alone at the table.
Evelyn slowly rose from her chair, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold her purse. She looked at me, then at her sleeping grandchildren, and finally at her son, who stood broken in the center of the room.
“You’re a fool, Grant,” Evelyn whispered, her voice cracking with shame. “You threw away everything for a girl who ran the second a police car pulled up.”
Evelyn walked past him without another word, her heels clicking softly as she exited into the night.
Now it was just Grant and me.
He looked around the empty room—the high ceilings, the oil paintings I had chosen, the dining table where we had celebrated nine years of holidays—and realized that the fortress he thought he built was built entirely on my foundation.
“You think you’ve won, Maya?” Grant sneered, stepping closer, his eyes dark with malice. “You’re eight months pregnant. You have no career. You haven't worked in risk analysis in nearly a decade. How are you going to pay the property taxes on this place? How are you going to feed Owen and Lily when my accounts are frozen?”
I smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached all the way to my eyes.
“I didn't just audit your accounts, Grant,” I said quietly. “While you were paying Tessa’s rent, I was consulting remotely for three major hedge funds in Manhattan under my maiden name. I earned more in the last six months than your entire firm made all year.”
May you like
Grant froze, his jaw dropping open.
“Your five minutes are up, Grant,” I said, pointing toward the open front door where two uniformed police officers were now walking up the front steps. “Get out of my house.”
