Chapter 4 - The Midnight Eviction
True to my word, exactly twenty minutes later, heavy thudding footsteps echoed up the staircase, followed by frantic, pounding knocks on the nursery door.
"Elena! Open the door!" Julian’s voice cracked through the wood, laced with panic and suppressed fury. "You can't be serious! It’s freezing outside! Where are we supposed to go at this hour?"
I didn't answer immediately. I finished brushing Chloe’s tangled hair, kissed her forehead as she drifted off to sleep under a mountain of heavy blankets, and quietly stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me.
Julian stood there with two massive designer duffel bags slung over his shoulders. Beatrice stood a few feet behind him, holding little Mia by the hand. The little girl looked terrified, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit to her chest.
"You're still here," I said coldly, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Elena, be reasonable," Julian pleaded, his voice dropping to a pathetic whine. "Beatrice is seventy-two years old! You can't throw an elderly woman and a toddler out into the winter cold at midnight! Where is our heart?"
"The same place yours was when you left Chloe to eat crumbs off the floor," I snapped back. "The guest house behind the garage is heated, has a private bath, and a fully stocked kitchenette. You have until tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM to arrange permanent housing and clear out of my main estate entirely. If you step foot in the main house tonight, I will call the police for trespassing."
Beatrice sneered, her chin trembling with fury. "You cold-hearted witch. You’ll pay for this, Elena. Julian is an officer of Vance Holdings—"
"Julian is a glorified middle-management paper-pusher whose salary I subsidized through my own investments," I corrected her smoothly. "Go to the guest house, Beatrice. Enjoy your evening."
Without waiting for their reply, I turned around, walked back into the nursery, and locked the door.
I sat down in the rocking chair beside Chloe’s bed, pulled my laptop onto my lap, and opened an encrypted folder I had maintained for years as a safeguard against corporate espionage. But tonight, I wasn't looking up competitors.
I typed in Julian’s corporate email credentials—credentials he was foolish enough to leave saved on our shared home server—and accessed his private work drive.
What I found in his hidden folders made the blood run cold in my veins.
It wasn't just Sarah. It wasn't just Mia.
Julian had been systematically embezzling funds from my personal pre-marital accounts to purchase a luxury waterfront condo in downtown Chicago—registered entirely in the name of a shell company owned by Beatrice Vance.
And the beneficiary listed on the deed wasn't Julian.
It was Sarah's estate... and Mia.
I stared at the PDF document on my screen, a dark, humorless smile touching my lips. Julian hadn't just cheated on me and neglected our daughter. He had been quietly planning my financial execution for over two years, waiting for the right moment to drain my assets and leave me destitute.
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He thought I was a busy corporate executive who wouldn't notice a few missing millions.
He didn't realize I was the one who signed his paychecks.
