Chapter 7 - The Eviction of Diane Mercer
The following morning, a light rain fell over the Beacon Hill luxury complex where Diane Mercer had lived rent-free for five years.
Two moving trucks stood by the curb, flanked by private security guards holding inventory clipboards. Diane stood in the lobby, screaming at the building manager while Brooke frantically tried to call their old defense lawyers on a burner phone.
"This is a violation of my civil rights!" Diane shrieked, clutching a designer leather handbag to her chest like a shield. "My son is a prominent physician! I will have this entire building condemned!"
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the lobby, flanked by Gerald and a legal representative.
Diane's voice choked in her throat. She looked at me, her eyes darting to my white silk coat, my diamond earrings—pieces of my own inheritance I had hidden away for a decade to avoid making Nathan feel insecure.
"Cassandra," Brooke hissed, stepping forward. "You vindictive bitch. You're throwing your own family onto the street?"
"You were never my family, Brooke," I said calmly, looking at the inventory list. "Your family was a collection of parasites who mistook my silence for weakness. Every piece of furniture in that penthouse was purchased with corporate funds from Mercer Medical. Since that corporate entity is now under my restructuring firm, the furniture stays. You may leave with your clothes. Nothing else."
May you like
Diane stepped toward me, her face pale, the haughty country-club queen completely broken. "Cassandra, please... I’m an old woman. I have nowhere to go. Nathan's trial is going to ruin us."
"You should have thought about that before you joked about leaving me behind while drinking champagne in the airport lounge, Diane," I said, turning away. "The movers will begin loading your clothes into standard storage boxes now. Have a nice day."
