Chapter 5 - The Freezing of Assets
The fallout of the boardroom coup was immediate and absolute. By Wednesday afternoon, the financial news networks were dominated by a single headline:
“Whitaker Holdings Collapses Following Allegations of Corporate Fraud and Attempted Child Trafficking; Vance Global Group Initiates Hostile Takeover.”
I sat in the nursery of our new estate in Great Falls—a historic, high-security property surrounded by ancient oaks that my grandfather had gifted us as a birth present. Arthur lay sleeping in his walnut crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a peaceful, rhythmic cycle.
Ethan walked into the room, holding two cups of chamomile tea. He sat down in the rocking chair beside me, his face relaxed for the first time in months.
"The bank just finalized the freeze on Victoria and Sabrina’s personal accounts, Clara," he said softly, handing me a cup. "They attempted to liquidate their real estate holdings in Palm Beach this morning, but Marcus’s legal team blocked the title transfers. They have nothing left but the clothes in their closets."
"And Sabrina's husband?" I asked, looking up.
"He filed for an emergency annulment two hours ago," Ethan chuckled, a cold, ironic sound. "The moment he found out she wasn't actually pregnant and that the entire scheme was a fake adoption ploy to secure the Vance trust funds, he took his personal assets and fled to Canada. She’s completely alone in that penthouse, waiting for the federal marshals to serve the indictment."
My phone buzzed on the side table. It was a private number. I answered it, placing it on speaker.
"Clara... please," Victoria’s voice came through the receiver, entirely stripped of its aristocratic arrogance. She sounded like a terrified, broken old woman, her breathing ragged, the sound of sirens faint but distinct in the background of her call. "You have to tell Robert to withdraw the asset freeze. We have no electricity in the penthouse. The credit cards are being rejected at the grocery store. We are your family, Clara... your son carries our blood..."
"My son carries the blood of a man who threw away his entire inheritance to save his wife's life, Victoria," I said, my voice smooth, cold, and steady as an ice sheet. "He carries nothing from you. You called my presence in your family 'a temporary act of kindness.' Now it’s my turn to show you what a permanent act of justice looks like."
"Clara! No! Wait—"
May you like
I hung up before she could finish the sentence, turning the phone face down on the table. Ethan reached over, his long fingers wrapping around mine, his grip firm and unyielding.
"The trial date is set for November fourteenth," he whispered, kissing my knuckles. "Let's make sure our son never has to see the inside of a courtroom."
