Chapter 4 - The War Room
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By three in the morning, Liam was fast asleep in the master suite of the Ritz-Carlton downtown. I had spent two hours bathing him, gently washing the dirt from his hair, and feeding him warm soup until he finally drifted off, his small hand locked tightly around my pinky finger.
In the adjoining sitting room, my corporate attorney, Marcus Vance, sat with his laptop plugged into the flash drive Maria had given me.
Marcus was my late father's most trusted legal counsel, a ruthless veteran of high-stakes corporate warfare. As the video files loaded onto his screen, his jaw tightened into a rigid line.
"This is harrowing, Madeline," Marcus said softly, turning the screen slightly away from me. "There are over fifty logged instances of child neglect and emotional abuse documented here. Noelle locking him in the pantry for hours, Cynthia taking away his food..."
"I don't just want a divorce, Marcus," I said, staring at the rain streaming down the hotel window. "I want them completely undone. Financially, legally, and socially."
"We have the leverage," Marcus replied, tapping a folder on his desk. "Because of the way your father structured the family trust, you hold eighty percent of the voting shares in Vance-Carter Holdings. Jeffrey only managed the domestic operations because you granted him power of attorney while you were in London."
"Revoke it," I commanded instantly. "Revoke every authorization. Freeze the corporate credit cards, revoke his signing authority, and pull the funding for the Buckhead renovation."
"Consider it done," Marcus said, pulling out a legal document. "And what about the house?"
"The mansion's deed was purchased through my personal trust before we married," I replied, a cold smile forming on my lips. "Serve Jeffrey and his mother with an emergency eviction notice tomorrow morning at eight o'clock."
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"He will fight you, Madeline," Marcus warned gently. "He thinks Cynthia's family connections in the city council will protect him."
"Let him try," I said softly, looking back toward the bedroom where my son was finally sleeping peacefully. "He brought a knife to a war he didn't even realize I was leading."
