Chapter 6 - The Shattered Alliance
The fallout from the courtroom defeat spread through Reed’s inner circle like wildfire. By Tuesday evening, the expensive SUV parked in the driveway of the Severn River house was gone. Cynthia Vance had packed her bags and fled to her family’s estate in New Jersey, taking the baby with her after a vicious, screaming argument with Lorraine that had been overheard by the neighbors.
Blythe returned to her house that night, not as a visitor, but as the executioner of her family's justice. Marcus and two security guards stood by the front door while a moving crew systematically cleared out the modern furniture, the cream-colored rugs, and the framed photographs Lorraine had placed on the walls.
Blythe walked up the stairs to the second floor, her boots echoing on the hardwood. She pushed open the door to the yellow nursery.
The painted stars her father had helped her brush onto the ceiling were still there, but the room had been converted into a storage space for Reed’s golf clubs, empty designer shoe boxes, and old corporate files.
"Blythe," a hollow, desperate voice called from the doorway.
Reed stood there. He looked disheveled, his tie loosened, his expensive watch missing—likely sold to cover the initial retainer for his criminal defense lawyers.
"What do you want, Reed?" Blythe asked, not turning around as she lifted an old picture of her father from a dusty box.
"Cynthia left me, Blythe," he whispered, his voice shaking with a pathetic, childish self-pity. "She took the baby. The board froze my accounts. My mother is staying at a cheap motel near the highway. You've destroyed everything."
Blythe slowly turned to face him, her gray eyes reflecting the cold moonlight streaming through the nursery window. "I didn't destroy anything, Reed. You did. The moment you put a dog collar on my son because he reminded you of the woman you couldn't control, you signed the warrant for your own destruction."
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"I was lonely, Blythe!" he shouted, a sudden, pathetic flash of anger breaking through his despair. "You left! For five years, you were a ghost! I needed a life! I needed a family!"
"You had a son, Reed," Blythe said softly, the absolute finality in her voice cutting through his shouts. "You had a boy who needed his father to protect him. Instead, you sold his bedroom to buy a lifestyle you didn't earn. Pack the rest of your clothes and leave the keys on the kitchen island. If you are still on this property by midnight, Marcus will remove you physically."
