Chapter 2 - The House of Cards“What is the meaning of this?” Travis demanded, pushing past me into the bedroom without an invitation, his phone clutched tightly in his sweating palm. “My business partner just called me! He said our commercial credit line at First National was frozen ten seconds ago! Every single corporate card of mine was just declined at the local lounge!”
I didn’t flinch. I simply stood by the desk, leaning casually against the edge of the wood, watching him unravel.
“You declawed yourself, Travis,” I said softly.
Diane pushed her way into the room behind her son, her face twisted in a mask of righteous indignation. Her diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet—which I had bought her for her sixtieth birthday—clinked loudly as she pointed a manicured finger at me.
“Don’t you dare speak to my son with that tone, Lauren!” Diane snapped, her voice rising in volume to regain control of the room. “After you threw a public tantrum downstairs, ruined our evening, and embarrassed him in front of his entire family, you stand there looking smug? You owe Travis an apology right now, and you need to fix whatever silly phone call you just made to your bank!”
I turned my gaze slowly toward my mother-in-law. The woman who had spent five straight days treating my presence in her life like an inconvenience, criticizing everything from my posture to the way I managed my schedule.
“An apology, Diane?” I asked, my voice cutting through the heavy air of the room like a scalpel. “Your son literally had two grown men drag me across wet grass and throw me into freezing water while you stood on the patio and clapped like a seal. And you think I owe an apology?”
“It was a joke!” Chloe chimed in from the hallway, crossing her arms defensively. “You take everything way too seriously, Lauren. Travis was just trying to lighten the mood after you insulted Mom.”
“I didn’t insult her,” I replied coldly. “I stated a fact. I paid for this entire weekend. I covered the rental house, the catering, the gas for your cars, and the shopping trips you took all week using my credit card.”
Travis stepped closer, his eyes wild with sudden, terrifying comprehension. He stared at me as if he were seeing a stranger.
“Lauren… stop playing games,” Travis hissed, lowering his voice into a dangerous murmur as he tried to exert the intimidation tactics that worked so well in his boardrooms. “Whatever account glitch happened, fix it. Right now. We have guests downstairs. We have investors arriving tomorrow morning for the golf outing. I cannot afford to look like I’m having financial issues.”
“Then it’s a good thing you won’t have to worry about looking like you have financial issues,” I said with a thin, humorless smile. “Because by morning, you won’t have any finances left to manage.”
My laptop screen chimed softly, indicating an incoming email. I glanced down. It was the confirmation package from Meredith Vance: Motion for Emergency Asset Freeze, Notice of Corporate Withdrawal, and Revocation of Spousal Guarantee.
I tapped my trackpad, spinning the laptop around so the screen faced Travis.
“Read it,” I instructed quietly.
Travis stared at the legal headings, his eyes darting across the digital signatures and injunction stamps. Color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking chalk-white under the warm bedroom lighting.
“No…” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, you can’t do this. This is my development project! The land acquisition in Westmont requires my signature, but the capital backing is tied to your business credit!”
“Was tied to my business credit,” I corrected him smoothly. “Past tense, Travis. As of three minutes ago, my attorneys revoked every corporate underwriting agreement associated with your name. Your bank accounts are frozen, your business credit is locked, and this rental house lease—which is registered in my name and paid for by my corporate account—expires in exactly twelve hours.”
Diane shrieked, clutching her chest as if she had been physically struck.
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“You can’t throw us out!” Diane yelled, stepping forward. “This is Travis’s family! You’re his wife! You’re supposed to support him!”
“I supported a parasite for seven years,” I said, standing up straight and looking each of them in the eye. “That charity work officially ended when Travis decided to throw me into a pool. Now, all of you have until sunrise to pack your designer bags, clear out your luxury cars, and get out of my sight. Because if any of you are still breathing the air in this house at 8:00 a.m., I’ll have the local sheriff escort you off the property for trespassing.”
