Chapter 3 - The Eviction
"Eighteen minutes?!" Diane screamed, her voice cracking into a high-pitched shriek. "Are you insane?! My clothes! My jewelry! My antique furniture!"
"The furniture was purchased using an Aethelard interior design credit line, Mrs. Morrison," Arthur informed her without a shred of pity. "It belongs to the corporation. The jewelry purchased using Brendan’s corporate expense accounts has been flagged as embezzled company property. Anything you attempt to remove from this house that was not purchased with verified personal funds will result in an immediate felony arrest."
Brendan fell back into his chair, his hands trembling violently as he stared at his phone. "My car... my BMW isn't starting. The app says the engine has been remotely locked."
"Of course it has," Arthur replied. "The vehicle belongs to Aethelard Fleet Management."
Jessica grabbed Brendan’s arm, her face pale with panic. "Brendan! Do something! Tell them they can't do this! You're the Senior Vice President!"
"He's nothing, Jessica," I said, looking at her with cold, clear eyes. "He doesn't have a job. He doesn't have a car. He doesn't have an apartment. The penthouse Brendan took you to in Miami last weekend? That was a company hospitality suite. The diamond bracelet on your wrist? Paid for with a corporate credit card that is currently eighty thousand dollars in default."
Jessica gasped, instinctively wrapping her hand over the sparkling bracelet on her left wrist.
Two more security guards entered the dining room, holding heavy tactical flashlights and clipboard manifests.
"Ms. Vance," the lead security officer said, bowing politely to me. "Your private transport is waiting in the courtyard. The medical team you requested is standing by in the secondary vehicle to check on you and the baby."
"Thank you, Marcus," I said quietly.
I turned toward the exit, but Brendan suddenly lunged out of his chair, dropping to his knees on the wet Persian rug right in front of me.
"Cassidy! Please!" Brendan sobbed, reaching out to grab the wet hem of my dress.
Arthur instantly stepped between us, placing a polished leather shoe firmly on Brendan’s wrist, keeping him at a safe distance.
"Cassidy, look at me!" Brendan wept, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, erasing every trace of the arrogant executive who had laughed at me five minutes ago. "I'm sorry! I was stupid! I was influenced by my mother and Jessica! I didn't mean to laugh! I love you, Cassidy! We're having a baby together! You can't do this to your daughter's father!"
I stopped. I looked down at the man I had given four years of my life to.
"My daughter will know who her father is, Brendan," I said, my voice echoing with terrifying, unshakeable calm. "She will know that he was a man who let his mother pour ice water over a pregnant woman for entertainment. She will know that he traded his family for a title he didn't earn. And she will never, ever have to ask you for a single dollar."
I looked at Diane, who was frantically stuffing her designer handbags with silver spoons, while security guards quietly recorded her every move on chest cameras.
"Oh, and Diane?" I added, pausing at the threshold of the grand hallway.
May you like
Diane snapped her head toward me, her eyes filled with pure hatred.
"Keep the bucket," I said smoothly. "You're going to need it."
