Chapter 5 - The Eviction of Celeste
While Adrian was being escorted out of his corporate headquarters by federal marshals, a different kind of execution was taking place at the colonial mansion in Pasadena.
Celeste Monroe was lounging by the resort-style swimming pool, wearing an oversized straw hat and scrolling through the furious, panicked comments on her lifestyle Instagram page following the disastrous events at the venture capital gala. The white Range Rover was parked in the driveway, its red bow still attached, glistening in the sun.
"Adrian will fix it," she muttered to herself, taking a sip of her green smoothie. "He has connections. He’s an investment banker. Bankers don't go broke."
The sudden, loud crunch of gravel interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see a massive white flatbed tow truck pulling up the circular driveway, followed by two black security SUVs and a moving van.
Celeste stood up, her silk robe fluttering behind her. "Hey! What do you think you’re doing?" she shouted, storming toward the driveway as the tow truck driver began backing up toward the Range Rover. "Get away from that car! That’s a corporate vehicle leased under Monroe Luxury Assets!"
A woman stepped out from the lead security SUV, dressed in a sharp black tailored dress, her hair pinned back in a flawless, professional bun. It was Sarah Jenkins, the lead asset-recovery attorney for the Sterling Group.
"Miss Celeste Monroe?" Sarah asked, holding a clipboard with clinical detachment.
"Yes! And I want to know why you are trespassing on my private property!" Celeste shrieked, pointing her red nails at the tow truck.
"This is not your property, Miss Monroe," Sarah said, handing her a certified copy of an emergency quitclaim injunction issued by the Los Angeles Superior Court. "The title transfer executed by Adrian Vale to Monroe Luxury Assets three weeks ago has been declared null and void due to a fundamental defect in the underlying corporate registration. VIG Holdings did not possess the legal capacity to convey real estate in the state of California."
Celeste blinked, her lips parting in shock as she looked at the legal seal on the document. "What? No... Adrian gave me this house. He signed the papers!"
"Adrian Vale signed a fraudulent document using funds embezzled from a credit line controlled by the Sterling Family Trust," Sarah explained ruthlessly. "This house is currently registered under the name of Evelyn Sterling. You have exactly thirty minutes to remove your personal clothing from these premises."
"Thirty minutes?" Celeste gasped, her voice reaching a frantic, hysterical pitch. "My furniture is here! My clothes! My Birkin bag!"
"The furniture was purchased using corporate capital from Vale Investment Group, which is currently under a federal receivership warrant," Sarah stated, her voice unyielding. "It remains inside the house as an attached asset. The moving van behind me is here to transport Evelyn Sterling’s original belongings back into the residence. Anything else left behind after 12:30 p.m. will be discarded as abandoned trash."
The tow truck operator engaged the hydraulic lift, and the white Range Rover was slowly hoisted into the air, its wheels spinning uselessly against the metal tracks.
"Stop it! You can't do this to me!" Celeste screamed, running toward the house, but two large, male security guards stepped into her path, blocking the front entrance with their massive bodies.
"You may enter with Mrs. Higgins, the estate manager, to collect your personal wardrobe and your bag, Miss Monroe," Sarah said, looking at her watch. "The clock is ticking. I suggest you hurry."
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Twenty-five minutes later, Celeste Monroe walked down the front steps of the Pasadena mansion. The glamour of the previous night was entirely gone. She was wearing flat sandals, carrying a single duffel bag of clothes in one hand, and clutching her black Birkin bag against her chest like a shield. She had no car, no house, and her corporate bank accounts had been frozen by federal order less than an hour ago.
As she reached the security gates, she looked back to see the moving crew carefully carrying three beautifully carved wooden cribs from the transport van into the front foyer. The home was being restored for its true mistress, and Celeste Monroe was being cast out into the exact same wilderness where she had tried to abandon me.
