Chapter 4 - The Eviction Notice
The glass doors of my penthouse suite slid open, and Andrew rushed inside, his necktie crooked, his suit rumpled, his face a pale mask of sheer terror.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me sitting behind the massive executive desk, flanked by four security guards and two senior partners from the city's most powerful law firm.
"Mariana...?" Andrew choked out, his voice cracking into a desperate squeak. "What... what is this joke? Why are you sitting in the Escalante executive office?"
I didn't answer right away. I calmly set my teacup down, folded my hands flat on the desk, and looked him straight in the eyes.
"It’s not a joke, Andrew," I said, my voice carrying clearly through the vast room. "It’s an audit."
Gabriel stepped forward, opening the leather portfolio in front of Andrew.
"Four years ago, Andrew," Gabriel explained, "Mariana personally authorized a thirty-million-dollar private credit line to launch Lawson Commercial Logistics. She allowed you to put your name on the door because she wanted you to build a legacy with dignity."
"She owned eighty percent of your commercial fleet, ninety percent of your warehouse facilities, and one hundred percent of the land your mansion sits on in Bryn Mawr."
Andrew’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "No... no, that’s impossible! My mother said her family came from nothing! She wore old clothes!"
"My grandmother taught me that true wealth is quiet, Andrew," I said softly, stepping around the desk, the steady click of my heels sounding like a ticking clock in the quiet room.
"You mistook my modesty for poverty. You mistook my patience for helplessness."
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"And last night, when you struck me in front of your mistress and your mother, you didn't just end our marriage."
"You triggered the immediate default clause on every dollar you ever borrowed from my family."
