Chapter 4 - The Eviction of Lake Forest
By Thursday afternoon, the news of the Vance familyâs total insolvency had leaked to the financial press.
The Wall Street Journal ran the headline: SOVEREIGN TRUST RECLAIMS VANCE LOGISTICS IN HISTORIC COLLATERAL FORFEITURE.
At the Lake Forest estate, the atmosphere was suffocating. Moving trucks were lined up along the curving asphalt driveway, but they were not there to help the family relocate. They were there under the direction of the county sheriffâs civil division, accompanied by an inventory team sent by the Sterling Trust.
Inside the grand foyer, Eleanor Vance was hysterical. She stood in front of the marble fireplace, clutching a crystal vase while two deputies calmly stood by the entrance.
"You have no authority to throw us out of our home!" she shrieked as I walked through the front doors, flanked by two private security personnel. "This house has been in the Vance family for four generations!"
"Check the deed, Eleanor," I said, tossing a certified county land registry file onto the entrance table. "Your late husband took a sixty-million-dollar mortgage from Sovereign Trust twelve years ago to keep this estate out of foreclosure. You haven't owned this house in over a decade. You were permitted to reside here on an estate license that was revocable upon material financial default."
Victoria Vance stood on the stairs, clutching a designer weekend bag, her face red and swollen from crying. "Where are we supposed to go, Genevieve? Every bank has frozen our personal credit cards! I couldn't even pay for fuel this morning!"
"You can stay in a motel, Victoria," I said without looking at her. "Or you can ask your society friends who were coming to your junior league committee meeting. Perhaps they can offer you a corner of their basement."
Julian came down the hall, carrying a single leather duffel bag. He looked like an old man. The custom-tailored suits were gone, replaced by a rumpled shirt and unpolished shoes. The arrogant smirk that had defined him for years was completely wiped away, replaced by an empty, haunted stare.
"The police are waiting at the front gates, aren't they?" he asked quietly, his voice cracked and hollow.
"Not yet," I replied. "The Securities and Exchange Commission has agreed to question you tomorrow at nine. Whether they arrest you depends entirely on how much of the truth you tell regarding Richard Hayes."
Julian stopped in front of me. He looked at the white marble floor, the high ceilings, the crystal chandeliers that had once represented his undisputed supremacy.
"I didn't know she was going to die, Genevieve," he whispered, a single tear cutting through the dust on his cheek. "I thought... I thought you were exaggerating to get back at me."
"That is your curse, Julian," I said, stepping aside to clear his path to the front door. "You believe everyone is as selfish and hollow as you are. You could not fathom that a mother would fight for her daughter simply because she loved her."
Eleanor lunged forward, trying to grab my sleeve. "You monster! We gave you our family name! We allowed you into our social circle!"
"Your family name is an international synonym for fraud and bankruptcy," I said, stepping back so the deputy could intercept her. "And as of today, the Vance name is extinguished."
Julian walked out through the heavy doors into the cold November drizzle. Behind him, his mother and sister were escorted to a pair of waiting taxicabs, their luxury luggage confiscated to satisfy outstanding household payroll debts for the staff they had mistreated for years.
I walked through the silent mansion alone, listening to the hollow echo of my own footsteps.
May you like
When I reached the back wing, I entered the small nursery one last time. I lifted Hazelâs white marble urn into my arms, pressing the cold stone against my chest.
"We're going home, baby," I whispered into the quiet room. "Nobody will ever hurt us again."
