Chapter 4 - Stripped Bare
Vivian Harrington stood frozen as security officers began methodically packing her belongings into cheap plastic trash bags.
"You can't do this!" Vivian wept, clutching a fur coat against her chest. "This coat belongs to me! My husband bought this for me!"
"Your late husband bought that coat using funds embezzled from a Vale subsidiary twenty years ago, Mrs. Harrington," Marcus Vance informed her coldly, signaling an officer to take the coat from her hands. "Every luxury asset in this house is subject to corporate repossession."
Outside, heavy tow trucks had arrived.
Graham watched through the open doors as his prized possession—a limited-edition matte-black Porsche 911 GT3—was lifted onto the bed of a flatbed truck. Beside it, Vivian’s Mercedes-Benz sedan was being hooked up to another tow rig.
"My car!" Graham screamed, staggering to his feet. "You're taking my car?!"
"The car was leased through Harrington Luxe as an executive perk," Evelyn said, leaning against the doorway. "Since you are no longer an employee, the vehicle has been repossessed. Along with your phone, your laptop, and the diamond ring you gave your mother last Christmas—which was purchased using company accounts."
Two female security officers approached Vivian, politely but firmly stripping the diamond necklace and emerald rings from her fingers and neck, placing them into sealed evidence bags.
"You monster!" Vivian screamed at Evelyn, her face red and blotchy with tears. "You acted like a meek little mouse! You tricked my son!"
"I didn't trick anyone, Vivian," Evelyn replied calmly. "I lived simply because I value humility, hard work, and genuine love. I wanted a husband who loved me for who I was, not for my bank account. I gave Graham eighteen months to prove his character. And when the test came, you both proved you were nothing more than cruel, greedy parasites."
Evelyn looked at her watch. It was 6:30 AM.
"Your ten minutes are up," Evelyn announced. "Officers, escort Mr. and Mrs. Harrington off my property."
"Where are we supposed to go?!" Graham cried, pulling his velvet robe tightly around his shivering body. His shoes hadn't even been provided; he stood in his socks on the icy pavement outside the front doors. "We have no money! Our accounts are frozen!"
"There’s a homeless shelter six miles down the road," Marcus Vance suggested with a terrifyingly polite smile. "I suggest you start walking before the blizzard hits."
The heavy wrought-iron doors of the mansion slammed shut.
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Graham and Vivian Harrington stood in the freezing morning air, surrounded by swirling snow, dressed in pajamas and robes, holding three black trash bags containing their only remaining possessions.
The security gate at the edge of the estate locked automatically with a heavy, metallic click. They were officially locked out of paradise, cast down into the very poverty they had mocked.
