Chapter 6 - The Cracks in the Facade
Two days later, the cracks inside the family fortress turned into chasms.
Marcus had moved with terrifying efficiency. The cease-and-desist letter was delivered directly to Sloan’s boutique by a process server during peak afternoon shopping hours. Along with it was a formal notice that her business lease—which Dad had co-signed and backed with the house as collateral—was entering immediate default proceedings due to non-payment.
I was sitting in Marcus’s downtown office when my phone rang. This time, it wasn't Sloan. It was Trent.
Marcus gestured to the speakerphone on his mahogany desk. “Put him on. Let’s hear what the prince has to say.”
I hit the button. “Hello, Trent.”
Trent’s voice was completely stripped of the smug arrogance he had displayed at the dinner table. It was high, strained, and slightly out of breath.
“Clara. Listen to me. We need to handle this between us. There’s no reason to drag lawyers and third parties into this.”
“You called my legal papers extortion two nights ago, Trent,” I said calmly. “What changed?”
“Look... Sloan doesn't know everything,” Trent whispered, his voice trembling. “She doesn't know about the merchant cash advances. If your lawyer freezes the business account, the lenders are going to seize our personal car. They’re going to freeze our personal accounts.”
Marcus leaned forward, speaking directly toward the microphone. “Mr. Miller, this is Marcus Vance, Mrs. Davis’s legal counsel. Are you admitting to securing secondary commercial liens against property that was legally deeded to Clara Davis?”
A sharp gasp came over the line. Then a rustle of movement, followed by Sloan’s voice shouting in the background: *Who are you talking to? Is that Clara?! Give me the phone!*
The line went dead with a loud click.
Marcus leaned back in his leather chair, a thin smile playing across his lips. “They’re eating each other alive. Trent used your father’s name to take out high-interest loans to prop up Sloan’s failed clothing store. And Sloan thought she was living off her own genius.”
“And my mother?” I asked, feeling a lingering knot of guilt that I couldn't quite extinguish. “Does she know?”
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“Your mother chose her side the minute she watched that little girl walk out into the snow,” Marcus said, his eyes sharpening. “Don't confuse weakness with innocence, Clara. Your mother allowed this because it was easier to sacrifice you than to admit her golden daughter was a fraud.”
***
