Chapter 3 - The Eviction
Beverly scoffed, gripping her silk robe tightly. "Sterling? What is this nonsense, Ethan? Throw them out! This is our home!"
Sophia, my attorney, stepped forward and placed her briefcase on the marble island, right next to Ethan’s untouched plate of poached eggs. The metal latches clicked open, sounding like gunshots in the quiet room.
"Actually, Mrs. Walker, it is not your home," Sophia said, pulling out a thick stack of documents. "This property was purchased four years ago by Sterling Holdings. Emily is the sole beneficiary of that trust. Your son’s name is nowhere on the deed. In fact, you and your son have been legally classified as 'guests' in this residence. And as of 8:00 AM this morning, your invitation has been permanently revoked."
Sophia handed a piece of paper to Beverly. "You have exactly twenty minutes to pack a single suitcase of personal items and vacate the premises."
Beverly’s face drained of color. The paper fluttered in her trembling hands. "Ethan! Do something! She's lying!"
Ethan forced a laugh, though sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. "This is a joke. You're trying to scare me, Emily? I own Vanguard Construction. I’m worth millions. I pay for everything!" He turned to the banker. "Vance, tell this idiot lawyer who funds my accounts."
Marcus Vance adjusted his glasses, looking at Ethan with sheer pity. "Mr. Walker, I’m afraid you are under a severe misconception regarding your own finances. When Vanguard Construction was facing bankruptcy two years ago, a private equity firm swooped in and saved you with a massive capital injection."
"I know!" Ethan snapped. "Apex Capital! I negotiated that deal myself!"
Vance nodded. "Yes. And Apex Capital is a subsidiary of Sterling Holdings. Which means, Mr. Walker, that your wife owns 82% of your company. You are nothing more than a minority shareholder and a salaried employee. An employee who, as of an emergency board meeting held at 6:00 AM today, has been terminated for gross moral turpitude and embezzlement."
Ethan stumbled back, his knees hitting the barstool. "Terminated? You can't fire me from my own company!"
"She just did," my father said softly. "Furthermore, my forensic accountants have spent the last twelve hours tracking the company accounts. You’ve been siphoning corporate funds to pay for your mother’s country club memberships, her luxury cars, and your gambling debts. Those assets have been legally frozen."
"You have absolutely nothing, Ethan," I said, finally stepping out from behind the counter. "The cars are leased under my company. The accounts were seeded by my money. The clothes on your back were paid for by my dividends. You spent three years calling me worthless, while you were entirely subsidized by my charity."
Ethan’s chest heaved. The realization was crashing down on him like a collapsing building. The arrogant, untouchable king was suddenly standing naked in the wreckage of his fake empire.
His shock quickly mutated into a desperate, feral rage. "You lying bitch!" he screamed, lunging at me with his fists raised.
He never made it.
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Detective Miller stepped directly into Ethan's path, grabbing his arm, twisting it sharply behind his back, and slamming him face-first into the marble kitchen island. The plates of lavish breakfast shattered. Yolk and coffee spilled across Ethan’s custom Italian suit.
"Ethan Walker," Detective Miller said calmly, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. "You are under arrest for aggravated domestic battery."
