Chapter 6 - The Counter-Attack
The party evaporated within ten minutes. Guests fled to their cars, eager to spread the scandal across the city’s social circles. By 4:00 PM, the house was silent except for the hum of the refrigerators containing $3,000 worth of untouched catering.
Weston had been taken to the central precinct in handcuffs. Marguerite sat on the velvet sofa in the living room, weeping hysterically into a silk handkerchief, her manicured facade completely shattered.
"You can't do this," she sobbed, looking up at me as I stood in the foyer with my legal team. "I have nowhere to go. All my things are here."
"You have twenty-four hours to vacate the property, Marguerite," I said, setting a formal eviction notice on the coffee table beside her empty wine glass. "The locks will be changed tomorrow at 5:00 PM."
"Weston will get out on bail!" she spat, her tone suddenly turning malicious. "His lawyers will tear you apart! You won't get a single penny from the business!"
"The business is already bankrupt, Marguerite," Lena said, opening her briefcase and placing a stack of financial summaries beside the eviction notice. "Over the past five years, you and Weston accumulated $1.2 million in debt under the company's name. But because Brynn was listed as the owner of the physical assets while you held the operational liability, the debt belongs entirely to you and Weston."
Marguerite stared at the numbers, her eyes widening in sheer horror.
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"Every luxury car lease, every boutique inventory debt, every unpaid tax bill—it's all tied to your personal social security numbers," Lena added with a cold, professional smile. "Brynn isn't just walking away free. She’s taking the house, the remaining capital reserves, and the intellectual property."
Marguerite sank back into the cushions, speechless.
