Chapter 3 - The Matriarch’s CounterattackBefore Ethan could stumble through another syllable of denial or shock, the heavy glass doors of the mansion burst open.
"What is the meaning of this absolute circus?!"
Eleanor Montgomery marched down the terrace steps, her face twisted into a mask of aristocratic rage. She didn't look at Ethan; she locked her venomous glare entirely onto me. For five years, she had ruled her family with an iron fist, burying scandals, arranging marriages, and treating human beings like chess pieces.
She marched right up to me, stopping just inches away, her eyes flashing with pure malice.
"You brazen, ungrateful little guttersnipe," Eleanor hissed, keeping her voice low enough so the back rows wouldn't catch every word, though half the estate was straining to listen. "You think you can waltz back into our lives with a pack of street urchins and ruin my son’s wedding day? Security! Get these bastards off my property immediately!"
Not a single security guard moved.
Around the perimeter of the lawn, the private security detail—men hired specifically by Eleanor to keep riffraff out—stood frozen, staring at their earpieces in sheer panic.
Because two minutes earlier, while my SUV was pulling through the gates, my general counsel had transmitted a formal legal notice to the security firm’s parent company: The Montgomery estate grounds were currently operating under a temporary receivership injunction due to pending corporate debt restructuring tied to Appleton-Vanguard Holdings.
In plain English? I didn't just attend the wedding; I held the mortgage on the land they were standing on.
"I wouldn't wave my hands around too much, Eleanor," I said smoothly, stepping forward so she was the one forced to tilt her chin upward to look me in the eye. "Especially not when your family’s entire real estate portfolio is currently being audited by my financial division."
Eleanor’s breath hitched. "Your... what? You're a penniless nobody! You ran away with nothing!"
"I ran away with my sanity," I corrected, my smile widening. "And while you spent five years hosting charity galas funded by loans against properties you didn't actually own, I built a digital empire. Appleton Media isn't just a small agency anymore, Eleanor. Last month, we quietly acquired thirty-four percent of Montgomery Real Estate’s primary commercial debt."
The color drained from Eleanor’s face entirely. She looked like she had been hit by a freight train. "That... that’s impossible. No one could buy that debt without our knowledge—"
"Your son was too busy funding diamond necklaces for a senator’s daughter to read the fine print on his subsidiary refinancing," I replied, turning my head slightly toward Ethan, who was still kneeling in the grass looking like a broken man.
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At that exact moment, a sleek black sedan pulled up behind the catering tents. The rear door opened, and a tall, impeccably dressed woman in a Chanel suit stepped out, holding a thick leather briefcase.
It was Margaret Sterling—senior partner at Chicago’s most ruthless corporate law firm, and my personal legal counsel.
