Chapter 4 - The Sound of the Gate
Garrick stood up so fast his mahogany chair tipped backward, crashing loudly against the hardwood floor.
"This is insane!" he shouted, his voice cracking with rising panic. "You're lying! You're an old woman playing games! Mom, tell her! Call corporate legal right now! Call Arthur!"
Miriam had stopped breathing. All the haughty arrogance that had defined her posture moments earlier had vanished, replaced by the hollow, trembling terror of someone whose entire house of cards was swaying in a hurricane. She looked at the leather portfolio on the table, then up at me, her lips trembling as she tried to form words.
"You... you're..." Miriam stammered, clutching her chest. "You're Elizabeth Vance. The federal prosecutor..."
"Former federal prosecutor, Miriam," I corrected gently. "Now I manage the family portfolio full-time. Which, unfortunately for your son, includes auditing corporate culture, executive integrity, and domestic liability clauses within our corporate charter."
Sienna looked up at me, a mixture of awe and residual fear in her expression. "Mom... you own..."
"I own enough to ensure that nobody ever lays a hand on my daughter again," I whispered to her, squeezing her hand tighter.
Julian scrambled back from the table, putting as much distance between himself and his brother as possible. "Garrick... if what she's saying is true... you lied to the board about your domestic standing? The corporate ethics clause explicitly states—"
"Shut up, Julian!" Garrick roared, veins bulging along his neck. He lunged toward the table, pointing a shaking finger directly into my face. "You think you can waltz in here and ruin my life over a domestic dispute? It's a marriage! Husbands and wives have disagreements! She tripped over the rug! She's clumsy, she's unstable, everyone at the country club knows it!"
Before I could answer, a sharp, crisp sound echoed through the grand foyer.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell chimed through the estate—a melodic, cheerful ring that felt absurdly out of place amid the suffocating tension of the dining room.
Garrick froze mid-sentence. His arm remained outstretched, his finger pointing at me, but his eyes locked onto the wide arched doorway leading to the front hall.
Miriam gripped the edge of the table, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Who... who could that be at this hour?"
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"That," I said, standing up gracefully from my chair and smoothing down the front of my tailored blazer, "would be Commissioner Fletcher and the executive board."
I turned to Sienna, offering her a warm, reassuring smile. "Come with me, darling. It’s time for you to watch how a real executive handles a hostile takeover."
