Chapter 4 - Eviction NoticeThe private VIP lounge behind the ballroom was quiet, cool, and smelled of polished mahogany and expensive leather. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the sparkling city skyline, holding a glass of sparkling water when the heavy oak door banged open.
Blake stumbled into the room, breathless, his tuxedo jacket half-unbuttoned, his tie askew. Behind him, security guards stood in the doorway, waiting for my signal.
"Leave us," I said quietly without turning around.
The guards stepped back, pulling the heavy door shut, leaving the two of us alone in the quiet expanse of the suite.
"Catherine!" Blake gasped, taking a desperate step forward. His voice was cracked, frantic, stripping away every shred of the arrogant composure he had worn at the dinner table just hours ago. "What is the meaning of this? Are you out of your mind? Making a spectacle of yourself—of us—in front of the entire city's elite?"
Slowly, I turned to face him. I set my glass down on the marble console table with a soft clink.
"Us, Blake?" I asked, raising a single eyebrow. "There is no 'us.' You made that abundantly clear when you handed me a stack of imaginary inferiority complexes while packing your mistress into a limousine for our anniversary gala."
"That was... that was business!" he stammered, his hands waving wildly in the air. "Sloane is my vice president! An executive has to play the part, Em! You know how society works! You don't fit into that world, you never did—"
"I don't fit into your world?" I cut him off, stepping forward with a cold, absolute authority that made him flinch. "Blake, let's refresh your memory about how the world actually works. Without my father’s venture capital pool, you’d still be working as a junior filing clerk at a failing regional bank. Without my family's shell companies buying up Winslow Development's toxic debt eight years ago, you wouldn't even have a desk to sit at."
"That's... that's impossible," he whispered, shaking his head in denial, though his eyes betrayed the terrifying realization that every word was true. "The public records... the incorporation filings... my name is on every single document!"
"Your name is on the public documents," I corrected smoothly, pulling a thin leather-bound portfolio from my handbag and tossing it onto the table before him. "Because I didn't want the headache of daily administrative operations while I was finishing my master's degree in corporate law. I hired you to be the decorative face of the company. I gave you the illusion of power, the illusion of success, and a house to play king in."
Blake stared at the portfolio as if it were a venomous snake. With trembling fingers, he opened it. Inside were the master trust deeds, the ultimate beneficial ownership disclosures, and the corporate restructuring notices stamped by the state attorney general's office an hour ago.
"You... you own everything," he whispered, his knees buckling slightly as he caught himself on the edge of the table. "Winslow Development... the waterfront holdings... the accounts... everything."
"Everything," I confirmed calmly. "Including the mansion you so proudly told me I didn't belong in."
"Em... please," Blake dropped his aristocratic facade entirely, his voice breaking into a pathetic whine as he took a step toward me, reaching out a pleading hand. "Thirteen years... no, eight years! Eight years of marriage! We built a life together! You can't just throw me out like trash! We can fix this. We can go home, we can talk—"
"Home?" I interrupted, a cold, bitter smile touching my lips. "Whose home, Blake? The house that belongs to my family's blind trust? Or the master bedroom where you entertained Sloane while I stayed downstairs cleaning up after your mother?"
He flinched as if I had struck him across the face.
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"Besides," I added, checking my watch, "you don't have a home anymore. By midnight tonight, the residential locks on the estate are being changed, and your personal belongings are being packed into black plastic garbage bags—very similar to the ones you probably think people from discount stores use."
Blake stared at me in absolute horror, the full weight of his colossal arrogance finally crushing him into dust.
