Chapter 3 - The Eviction
At 10:00 AM the following morning, I discharged myself from the hospital against medical advice. My ribs were tightly wrapped in medical bandages, my face was marked by a deep purple bruise along my jawline, but my posture was straighter than it had ever been.
I wore a sharp tailored charcoal coat, black sunglasses, and carried a leather briefcase. Standing beside me in the lobby of 442 Riverside Drive were Sarah, two uniform court marshals, and three professional movers carrying heavy cardboard boxes.
The elevator ride to the top floor was silent. When the doors opened directly into the Penthouse B foyer, the sound of hysterical sobbing rang through the open hallway.
In the living room, Gloria was frantically dragging designer dresses out of the walk-in closet, stuffing them into suitcases scattered across the Italian marble floor—the same marble where my blood had dripped twelve hours earlier.
When she heard our footsteps, she spun around, clutching a fur coat to her chest.
When she saw me standing there with the marshals, her face twisted into a mask of pure rage.
“You!” Gloria shrieked, dropping the coat and marching toward me. “You miserable, vindictive monster! You left my son in a jail cell overnight! Do you know what kind of people are in there?! He’s a Sterling!”
The lead marshal immediately stepped in front of her, placing his hand on his hip. “Ma’am, stay back.”
I stepped around the marshal, taking off my sunglasses so Gloria could see the dark, swollen reality of what her son had done to my face.
Gloria didn't even flinch. “Look at you, making a scene! He barely touched you! You’ve been waiting for an excuse to ruin us!”
“Gloria,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “Your time is up.”
“This is my son’s home!” she yelled, pointing at the floor. “He bought this place! He paid for every inch of this furniture!”
Sarah stepped forward, pulling a thick stack of certified bank deeds and wire transfers from her folder.
“Actually, Mrs. Sterling,” Sarah interrupted smoothly, “the deed for Penthouse B is registered 100% under the Evelyn Vance Revocable Trust. Every mortgage payment made over the last sixty months came directly from Evelyn’s personal checking account. Your son hasn't paid a single dollar toward this property. In fact, he was charging his monthly luxury car payments to Evelyn’s corporate credit card—a card that was canceled three hours ago.”
Gloria’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “That... that’s impossible. Daniel handles the finances!”
“Daniel lied to you, Gloria,” I said softly. “Just like he lied to his investors, and just like he lied to me. He didn't build a financial empire. He built a card house using my foundation.”
I gestured to the movers behind me.
“You have twenty minutes to collect your personal clothing,” I told the marshals. “Anything else—the art, the jewelry purchased with my capital, the furniture—remains here until the asset division is finalized by the court.”
“You can’t take my jewelry!” Gloria shrieked, her voice cracking into a high-pitched squeal. “Daniel gave me those diamonds for my birthday!”
“Daniel bought those diamonds using my corporate account, Gloria,” I replied. “Which makes them stolen property.”
The movers stepped past her, picking up her half-packed suitcases and carrying them toward the elevator.
Gloria dropped to her knees on the marble floor, clutching her leather handbag, sobbing hysterically as she realized no one was coming to save her. The powerful, aristocratic matriarch of the Sterling family was reduced to a trespassing tenant being escorted out by city marshals.
As the elevator doors closed on her tear-stained face, I turned to Sarah.
“Where is the mistress staying?” I asked.
May you like
Sarah pulled up an address on her phone. “Soho. A luxury condo on Mercer Street. The lease is under Sterling Global’s corporate name.”
“Call the building manager,” I said, stepping into my office. “Let’s go see what Daniel’s two million dollars bought him.”
