Chapter 6 - The Scavengers
Two weeks after the boardroom coup, the legal battle shifted from the corporate towers to the marble courtrooms of the family law division.
My father, stripped of his corporate salary and locked out of the family accounts, had been forced to hire a loud, aggressive strip-mall divorce attorney named Marcus Thorne—a man known for muddying the waters with sensational media leaks and bitter public attacks.
I sat beside my mother in the private conference room of Vance & Associates, reviewing the latest court filings.
"He's trying to claim spousal maintenance," I said, flipping through the thick stack of papers. "He's arguing that because he managed the family brand for twenty-five years, he is entitled to fifty percent of Grandfather's trust dividends."
Mr. Vance, our lead attorney, chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Mr. Thorne is whistling in the wind, Victoria. Under state law, any commingling of personal assets with proven criminal activity—such as the embezzlement charges currently pending against him—nullifies spousal support claims."
Just then, the conference room door opened, and my father walked in with his attorney.
Richard looked terrible. He was wearing an off-the-rack suit that fit him poorly, his hair was unkempt, and the arrogant swagger that had defined him for decades was completely gone. Behind him stood Marcus Thorne, a short, stocky man holding a battered leather briefcase.
"Eleanor," Thorne began loudly, slamming his briefcase onto the table. "We are here to offer a reasonable settlement before we make this divorce public. My client spent a quarter of a century building your reputation. If we go to trial, every piece of dirty laundry—the offshore accounts, the internal company disputes—will be plastered across the financial papers."
My mother didn't even look at Thorne. She kept her eyes on my father.
"Is this your strategy, Richard?" my mother asked softly. "Threatening to ruin the company name you spent twenty years claiming to love?"
"I have nothing left to lose, Eleanor!" my father hissed, leaning over the table, his knuckles white. "You took my office! You took my house! You took my reputation! You turned my own daughter against me!"
"You turned me against you the moment you traded my mother's dignity for a girl young enough to be my sister," I interjected, stepping up beside my mother. "And as for your threats about the media, Mr. Thorne..."
I pulled out a tablet and pushed a printed document across the table.
"That is a press release scheduled for broadcast in twenty minutes," I continued smoothly. "It details Sterling Financial's new ethics overhaul, the full cooperation of the board with federal authorities, and the establishment of the Eleanor Sterling Foundation for Women in Business."
Thorne picked up the paper, his eyes scanning the lines quickly. His aggressive demeanor immediately faltered.
"We aren't hiding from the story, Dad," I said coldly. "We own the story. The press already knows you were removed for financial misconduct. By noon today, you won't be seen as a powerful executive fighting for his fair share. You'll be seen as an ousted manager trying to extract money from his ex-wife's family trust."
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My father sank slowly into his chair, his head falling into his hands.
"Sign the unconditional waiver, Richard," Mr. Vance advised smoothly, sliding the final divorce agreement across the table. "Walk away with your personal pension fund and avoid a public trial that will leave you in bankruptcy."
