Chapter 4 - The Eviction of the Empire
The two process servers stepped forward, stepping past the ruined bouquet to hand Grant two thick, blue-backed legal folders.
"Grant Sterling," the first server stated, his voice clinical and loud. "You are hereby served with a federal injunction for corporate embezzlement, grand larceny, and systematic fraud against the Mercer Hale Trust Estate. Effective immediately, your position as managing partner of Sterling Logistics is terminated by order of the majority shareholder."
"Majority shareholder?" Grant yelled, his hand slamming onto the altar rail. "I own sixty percent of the firm! I built the infrastructure!"
"No, Grant," I said, holding Lily closer as she began to wake, her blue eyes opening to look at the room full of ruined adults. "You owned sixty percent of a shell company that leased its assets from my father’s primary foundation. The infrastructure, the trucks, the software contracts, and the very building your office sits in are completely owned by the trust. And as of eight o'clock this morning, the trust has revoked all leasing agreements due to non-payment of corporate taxes—taxes you skipped to pay for this wedding."
Vivian collapsed back onto the front pew, her pearls catching on her lace dress as she clutched her chest. "The penthouse... the lake property... those are marital assets! The court will split them!"
"The penthouse was purchased with funds advanced from Lily’s future educational trust," I said, looking down at Vivian with the absolute disdain she deserved. "Which means it’s classified as a restricted minor asset. The sheriff’s department is currently changing the deadbolts on the Gold Coast apartment as we speak. Your clothes are in garbage bags on the curb, Vivian. I’m sure Celeste can find room for you in her apartment... assuming Marcus is still paying the rent."
Grant looked around the room, his eyes wild, searching for a single ally among the two hundred guests. But the business partners, the developers, and the high-society friends were already quietly slipping out the side doors, eager to erase their names from the impending federal train wreck.
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"Clara, please," Grant whispered, his voice cracking as he took a step down from the altar, his hands outstretched in a desperate, pathetic plea. "Think about our time together. Six years. We can work this out. I was confused. My mother... she pushed me into this. She wanted a grandson so badly—"
"Don't you dare lay your failures at my feet, Grant," I said, my voice cutting through his desperation like a blade. "Two hours after I gave birth to your daughter, you called her a burden. You told me a woman with a daughter should learn humility. Well, Grant... today is your first lesson."
