Chapter 9 - The Eviction Notice
"Read paragraph four," Harold Sterling instructed, tapping the paper with the tip of his fountain pen.
Alexander looked down through his stinging, swollen eyes.
The words danced before him like black ants on hot stone.
Notice of Immediate Revocation of Residential Tenancy and Corporate Indemnification.
"The Lake Geneva house was deeded to the Whitmore Logistics Executive Housing Trust in 2018," Harold stated with clinical detachment.
"It was purchased with funds advanced by the Vance Holding Corp under the assumption that the Chief Executive Officer maintained an active, unbreached marital alliance with the Vance beneficiary."
"That alliance was dissolved de facto the moment you abandoned Mrs. Whitmore's marital bed and brought a third party into public spaces wearing trust-registered chattels."
"The estate locks on the Lake Geneva property were changed at two o'clock this afternoon."
"Your private vehicles have been removed to an impound lot pending an audit of corporate perk allocations."
"Your executive credit cards have been canceled."
Alexander shook his head violently.
"I have personal savings!"
"I have my account at Northern Trust!"
"That account was collateralized against your personal guarantee on the terminal construction bond," Harold replied, closing his ledger with a heavy thud.
"The bondholders triggered an acceleration clause thirty minutes after trading was halted."
"Northern Trust swept the account to cover the interest shortfall."
"You have approximately six hundred and forty dollars in your checking account, Alexander."
"And the clothes you are currently wearing."
Alexander looked at Ava, pleading with his eyes for a shred of sympathy, for an ounce of the adoration she had showered on him for the past twelve months.
Ava didn't look at him.
She stood up, zipped her designer handbag, and picked up a signed agreement from Harold's desk.
"It was lovely doing business with you, Claire," Ava said smoothly, offering a brief, polite nod to the woman she had mocked three weeks ago.
"The press statement regarding the return of the stolen heirloom will be released through my agency at six o'clock."
"It frames me as an innocent third party who returned the property the moment the provenance was called into question."
"That was our deal," Claire said, without looking up.
"Don't ever speak my grandmother's name again, Ava."
"I won't," Ava said.
She turned on her stilettos and walked out of the library, the rhythmic click of her heels echoing down the parquet corridor until the front door clicked shut.
She didn't look back at Alexander once.
She didn't say goodbye.
The room returned to absolute silence.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticked methodically, marking the passage of seconds that cost Alexander Whitmore everything he had spent twenty years pretending to build.
"Claire," Alexander whispered, his voice trembling so hard his teeth clicked together.
"Where am I supposed to go?"
Claire closed the manila folder.
She took the pearls from the velvet tray and slipped them into the inner pocket of her navy blazer, close to her heart, where they belonged.
She stood up.
She looked down at the man who had treated her like an invisible shadow in his multi-million-dollar home.
"When I left your house three weeks ago, Alexander, you told Richard Cole that women like me don't survive without money."
"You told your friends at the club that I would come crawling back on my knees within twenty-one days."
"You gave me ten minutes to pack my life into a canvas duffel bag."
"So I am going to be generous."
Claire glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall.
"It is now four-thirty in the afternoon."
"You have until five o'clock to clear your personal effects out of the executive suite at Willis Tower."
"If security finds you on the premises at five-oh-one, you will be arrested for commercial trespass."
"Claire, please!" Alexander begged, lunging forward to grab the hem of her jacket.
Harold Sterling raised his hand, and two burly private security guards stepped out from the shadows of the library doorway.
They took Alexander by the elbows, lifting him out of the leather chair as effortlessly as if he were an empty coat.
"Goodbye, Alexander," Claire said softly, turning her back on him.
May you like
"Don't bother looking for me."
"I am taking over the company tomorrow morning."
