Chapter 3 - Eviction Notice
Back at the Whitmore penthouse in Kalorama, chaos reigned.
Celeste paced across the Turkish rugs, clutching a tumbler of gin, her face twisted in hysterical fury. “She lied to us! For three years, that little viper played us for fools! How could she be Margot Hartwell’s daughter? She wore off-the-rack Zara! She washed her own car!”
Grant sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, his tuxedo jacket discarded on the floor. His phone wouldn’t stop ringing—journalists, board members, private equity partners demanding answers.
“Shut up, Mother!” Grant roared, slamming his fists onto the mahogany coffee table. “Just shut up! You slapped her! In front of the entire press corps! Do you know what Margot’s legal team will do to us? We took out seventy million in mezzanine debt to finance the pre-construction permits based on this contract!”
Madison stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, nervously chewing her glossed lip. Her social media was already catching fire. The viral video of Celeste slapping Evelyn, followed by Evelyn addressing Margot Hartwell as ‘Mother,’ had amassed fifteen million views in under two hours.
Comment sections were brutal:
*“Wait, so Madison Vale is just a side chick who got introduced as a wife?”*
*“The Whitmores literally slapped away a $400M deal. Clowns of the century!”*
*“Cancel Madison’s fashion line, she’s a homewrecker!”*
“Grant, baby,” Madison whimpered, stepping toward him with tears welling in her eyes. “My brand sponsors are dropping me. Sephora just pulled my holiday campaign! You promised me we’d be announced tonight, you said Evelyn was signing the quiet divorce papers next week anyway!”
Before Grant could answer, the double doors of the private elevator dinged and slid open.
Grant jumped to his feet, eyes lighting up with desperate hope. “Evelyn?”
It wasn't Evelyn.
Six men in tailored charcoal suits stepped into the penthouse, led by a tall, razor-sharp woman with horn-rimmed glasses holding a stack of legal documents. Behind them stood four armed private security officers in tactical dress.
“Who the hell are you?” Celeste demanded, spilling her gin. “This is private property! Get out before I have you arrested!”
“I am Sarah Sterling, senior partner at Sterling & Sterling, representing Evelyn Hartwell,” the lead attorney said, her voice dropping the temperature in the room by ten degrees. “And actually, Mrs. Whitmore, this is *not* your private property.”
Grant blinked, stunned. “What are you talking about? I bought this penthouse!”
Sarah Sterling offered a tight, merciless smile and slid a thick deed across the table. “You made the down payment using an offshore corporate entity that was eighty percent funded by a private trust. That trust was established by Margot Hartwell for her daughter. As of midnight, the default covenants were triggered due to breach of fiduciary duty and moral turpitude clauses. The deed has reverted entirely to Evelyn Hartwell.”
Celeste shrieked. “You can’t do that!”
“We already have,” Sarah said calmly. She checked her diamond watch. “You have exactly thirty minutes to pack personal clothing. Everything else—the furniture, the art, the silver, and all company electronics—remains on the premises pending an immediate forensic asset audit.”
Grant pushed past the attorney, his chest heaving. “Where is Evelyn? Let me speak to my wife! She wouldn't do this to me! She loves me!”
“Mrs. Hartwell filed an expedited emergency divorce petition forty-five minutes ago,” Sarah replied, pulling out an injunction order. “A temporary restraining order is in effect. If you come within five hundred yards of her, her offices, or her mother’s residence, you will be taken into custody immediately.”
Madison let out a shrill scream as two security guards began placing numbered evidence tags on the designer bags sitting in the hallway. “These are mine! Grant bought these for me!”
“With company funds drawn on credit lines now officially frozen,” Sarah remarked without looking up. “Step away from the luggage, Miss Vale.”
May you like
As Celeste wailed and Grant dropped to his knees pleading with the attorneys, the glittering house of cards they had built upon Evelyn’s quiet sacrifices collapsed into dust.
***
