Chapter 3 - The Eviction of the Ashfords
By 7:30 PM, the grand courtyard was empty of guests.
The three hundred high-society attendees—eager to avoid being dragged into a federal fraud investigation—had fled the estate in a frantic hurry. Valet drivers worked furiously, launching a parade of luxury sedans out through the heavy wrought-iron security gates, leaving behind an abandoned wasteland of half-empty champagne flutes, melting ice sculptures, and overturned velvet chairs.
Only five people remained in the center of the courtyard: my father, my mother, Elise, Daniel Mercer, and myself.
The temperature had dropped significantly. Wind whistled through the manicured rose garden, carrying the scent of damp earth and crushed flowers.
Elise sat collapsed on the edge of the fountain stone—the very fountain she had shoved me into ninety minutes prior. Her four-thousand-dollar veil was dragged through the cold, dirty pool of water behind her, her heavy makeup smeared down her face in messy dark streaks.
My father stood by the central oak doors, his coat off, sweating profusely as he dialed number after number on his phone.
"Answer... damn it, answer!" he cursed into the speaker, slamming his hand against the doorframe. "Where is the Chief of Police?! Where is Judge Miller?!"
"Judge Miller retired two months ago, Arthur," Daniel Mercer noted casually, leaning against a stone pillar while reviewing his digital tablet. "And the Chief of Police is currently standing outside the front gates, ensuring that the federal asset-seizure team has clear access to the property."
My mother sat on a velvet chair, shivering violently, wrapped in a stolen fur coat. "Clara... please," she whimpered, her voice stripped of every drop of its former arrogance. "You’ve made your point. You embarrassed us. You ruined Elise’s special day. Isn't that enough? We're your family!"
"Family?" I walked over to where my mother sat, looking down at her. "When I was nineteen and caught pneumonia, you left me in the unheated attic room for four days because you didn't want my coughing to disrupt Elise's piano recital."
My mother lowered her head, unable to meet my eyes.
"When I worked three jobs to pay my way through college," I continued, "you told the entire country club that I was a failure who dropped out to work as a maid. And two hours ago, you stood right there and clapped while Elise pushed me into a freezing pool of water."
I bent down, my wet hair brushing against her shoulder, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"You don't get to use the word family around me, Beatrice. You lost that right a long time ago."
At that moment, two large black moving vans pulled up the cobblestone driveway, their headlights cutting through the twilight. Eight uniformed movers stepped out, accompanied by a female deputy sheriff carrying a clip-board and a stack of yellow evidence tags.
Deputy Vance walked up to my father. "Arthur Ashford?"
"Who wants to know?!" my father barked defensive.
"I am serving you with an Emergency Order of Asset Attachment and Immediate Real Estate Vacancy," the deputy declared, handing him a stapled document. "All real property, luxury vehicles, art collections, and personal accounts belonging to Arthur and Beatrice Ashford have been placed into temporary receivership by order of the State Supreme Court."
My father gasped, his eyes bulging out of his head. "What?! My cars?! My house?!"
"Your house in Greenwich was purchased using an Ashford Holdings corporate loan that defaulted forty-eight hours ago," Daniel explained cleanly. "As Chairman, Clara has declined to extend the mortgage grace period. The locks on the Greenwich estate are currently being changed as we speak."
Elise let out a high-pitched, hysterical shriek. "Where are we supposed to live?! In a hotel?!"
"Not an Ashford hotel," I said, stepping between them and the front entrance. "Every property under my brand has been issued a photo flag. None of you will ever set foot inside an Ashford hotel, restaurant, or country club again."
"Clara! You can't leave your sister homeless!" my father roared, his fists clenched as he stepped toward me. "She’s a bride!"
"She's an unemployed twenty-six-year-old bully who has never worked a single hour in her entire life," I corrected him. "It’s time she learned what hard work feels like."
I turned to the deputy sheriff. "Please escort these three individuals off my property immediately. If they step back over the gate line without my written authorization, press charges for criminal felony trespass."
The deputy nodded. "Understood, Miss Ashford. Let's go, folks. Move it."
May you like
Elise sobbed hysterically as two officers guided her down the marble steps, her heavy satin dress dragging through the mud near the fountain. My father cursed and yelled at the sky, while my mother wept silently, clutching her purse to her chest as they were led down the long, dark driveway toward the road.
I stood alone in the center of the courtyard, listening to the iron gates swing shut with a heavy, final CLANG.
