Chapter 6 - The Scramble
"Zachary... please."
The words came out of Elena's mouth like a ragged gasp. She leaned across the table, her hands trembling violently, her eyes wide with desperate pleading.
"Zachary, you know your father didn't mean those cruel things," she stammered, her voice high and strained. "I was stressed! Caring for a sick man for years takes a toll on anyone! I did the best I could for Robert!"
I looked at her calmly, saying nothing.
"We're family, Zachary!" she continued, rising from her chair and taking a step toward me. "Your father would want us to share this! He was just confused at the end—he was angry and confused! You know how much Bradley and Tiffany looked up to him! Bradley viewed him as a real father!"
Brad looked up, his face burning with embarrassment. "Mom, stop..."
"No, Brad! We have to fix this!" Elena turned back to me, tears finally streaming down her face, ruining her perfect makeup. "Zachary, please! I have debts! The medical clinics I hired for Robert's private care cost hundreds of thousands of dollars! The back taxes on the Aspen house—I can't pay those on four thousand dollars!"
"Those private clinics were the ones you used to keep me away from him, weren't they?" I asked quietly, speaking for the first time since the reading began.
Elena froze.
"You paid tens of thousands of dollars a month to private nurses to ensure I couldn't get near his bedroom," I said, my voice steady and devoid of anger, carrying only absolute clarity. "You spent his money to keep a dying man isolated from his only son."
"Zachary, I thought it was best for his health—"
"No, Elena," I interrupted gently. "You thought it was best for your plan."
Harrison stepped forward, sliding a legal notice across the desk toward her. "Furthermore, Mrs. Sterling, as the sole trustee of The Alexander Trust, Zachary has instructed me to hand you this official notice regarding Elmridge Manor."
Elena stared down at the paper as if it were a poisonous snake. "What is this?"
"It is an eviction notice," Harrison stated plainly. "Under the terms of the commercial land trust, you, Bradley, and Tiffany have thirty days to surrender the keys and vacate Elmridge Manor. If you wish to remain beyond thirty days, the monthly rent of forty-five thousand dollars must be wired to The Alexander Trust on the first of every month."
"Thirty days?!" Tiffany shrieked, jumping out of her chair. "All my clothes are there! My jewelry! Everything I own!"
"Personal items purchased with your own verifiable funds may be removed," Harrison clarified. "However, all art, furniture, vehicles, and luxury items purchased using Robert Sterling’s accounts are designated as property of the estate and will be audited by a court-appointed forensic team starting tomorrow morning at nine o'clock."
Brad pulled off his sunglasses completely, tossing them onto the table. "This is a nightmare. This is a total nightmare!"
He looked at his mother with sudden, sharp resentment. "You told us you had this handled! You told us the old man was senile and everything was locked in! I put a non-refundable five-thousand-dollar deposit on that Ferrari using my personal credit card!"
"Brad, shut up!" Elena screamed, turning on her son. "I did everything for you two! Everything!"
"Well, you failed!" Brad yelled back, his composure completely shattered. "We have nothing! We're broke!"
I watched the three of them turn on each other, tearing apart the fragile bond of greed that had held them together for six years. My father had seen this moment coming from a mile away. He knew that without money to cement their alliance, they would consume each other.
I slowly stood up from my chair, taking the heavy gold-embossed binder into my hands.
Elena turned back toward me, falling to her knees right beside the mahogany table. "Zachary! Please! Don't throw us into the street! Give us something! A million dollars! Five hundred thousand! Anything!"
May you like
I looked down at her. Six years of insults, six years of cruel smiles, six years of watching her strip my mother's memory from my home—and now she was begging at my feet.
"Mr. Harrison," I said quietly, turning my back on Elena. "Let's go to your office. We have work to do."
