Chapter 3 - The King’s Downfall
It began with a knock at the door, but it wasn't the police.
It was a process server, followed by an eviction team.
I wasn't there, but I had arranged for a security camera—the one I had set up months ago to monitor my mother—to stream the feed to my phone.
I sat in Sarah's living room, watching the scene unfold on my screen.
Roger opened the door, his face puffy from sleep and a hangover, expecting a client.
He looked at the papers being shoved into his chest with a confusion that quickly turned to panic.
"What is this?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the open door of the mansion.
"This is an asset seizure order," the server said, his tone monotone and unyielding.
"By order of the federal government, you are required to vacate the premises immediately."
Roger’s face turned a violent shade of red.
He tried to argue, he tried to threaten, he tried to name-drop clients, but the server didn't even blink.
Then, the police cruisers pulled up, sirens wailing in the quiet suburb.
They didn't come to escort guests.
They came to arrest a man accused of federal financial crimes.
Roger stood on the marble steps, watching his world turn into a cage.
I watched as the police led him toward the squad car, his designer suit rumpled, his face a portrait of utter, pathetic ruin.
He looked around the neighborhood, searching for a face, a shred of sympathy, but there was no one.
He was truly alone.
His mother, who had laughed at me just a week before, was seen in the background, frantically trying to grab a few items before the police blocked her path.
She had spent years boasting about status and land, and now, she was being pushed off the property like a common trespasser.
The scene was so satisfying, so complete, that I found myself smiling—a genuine, honest smile that reached my eyes.
The king of the supplement empire was gone.
The man who thought he could buy, sell, and discard human beings like excess baggage was finally experiencing the taste of his own medicine.
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I closed the app, the feed going black.
The show was over, and the curtain had finally fallen on the Mendoza era.
