Chapter 2 - The Morning After
The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows of my Manhattan penthouse, casting a warm golden glow over the nursery.
I sat in a velvet rocking chair, feeding my sons while watching the morning news on muted volume.
The pediatric team had given the boys a perfect bill of health. They were completely unharmed by the cold.
My phone buzzed on the side table. It was Marcus.
"Good morning, Evelyn. The traps have been sprung."
"Walk me through it," I said, my voice calm, but my heart beating with a cold, calculated rhythm.
"At 7:00 AM, the central banking system executed the freeze on all accounts linked to the Harrington family trust," Marcus reported.
"Because those accounts were heavily leveraged against lines of credit provided by Vale International, our sudden withdrawal of backing triggered an automatic lockdown. They have zero liquidity."
A small, genuine smile touched my lips. "And the house?"
"The eviction notices were hand-delivered to the local sheriff's department. Since the property is legally owned by a subsidiary of Vale Holdings, and the 'tenants' have engaged in hostile behavior toward the property owner—namely, you—the eviction is immediate."
"Perfect," I whispered.
Across the city, in the upscale suburbs of Connecticut, Victoria Harrington was about to start her day just as she always did.
With arrogance.
I could picture her walking into her favorite luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue.
She would demand a glass of champagne. She would point at thousands of dollars worth of designer bags.
And then, she would hand over her black titanium card.
According to Marcus's real-time updates, that exact scenario was currently unfolding.
At 10:15 AM, Victoria's card was swiped.
Declined.
She laughed it off, assuming it was a machine error. She handed over another card.
Declined.
A third. A fourth.
Every single piece of plastic in her designer wallet flashed red.
The boutique manager, who usually fawned over her, slowly stepped back, his smile turning tight and professional.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Harrington. The bank is instructing us to confiscate these cards due to suspected fraud."
Victoria's screech of indignation was likely heard three stores down.
Meanwhile, Grant was pulling his leased Porsche into the underground parking garage of Harrington Luxury Group.
He felt like a king today. He had rid himself of his "useless" wife and the children he was convinced weren't his.
His mother had shown him a DNA test just days ago, supposedly sent from the hospital, proving he wasn't the father.
He hadn't even bothered to question it. He hadn't asked the hospital. He had just believed Victoria, because it was easier than standing up for his own family.
Grant stepped out of his car and walked confidently to the executive elevator.
He swiped his keycard.
Instead of the usual green light, the scanner beeped a harsh red.
ACCESS DENIED.
He frowned, swiping it again.
ACCESS DENIED.
"Hey, buddy, you're gonna have to step aside," a deep voice rumbled behind him.
Grant turned to see two massive men in dark suits wearing earpieces. Corporate security. But not the usual guards he recognized.
"Do you know who I am?" Grant snapped, puffing out his chest. "I'm the Vice President of Marketing. My grandfather founded this company."
"Your grandfather sold this company three years ago, Mr. Harrington," one of the guards said flatly. "And as of 8:00 AM this morning, you no longer work here. You are required to report to the boardroom on the 50th floor immediately for your offboarding."
May you like
Grant's face drained of color. "Offboarding? Who the hell authorized that?"
"The new CEO," the guard replied, gesturing toward the service elevator. "She's waiting for you."
