Chapter 11 - The Rose Garden Trap
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Eleanor snapped. The last remaining threads of her upper-class decorum shattered entirely. With a sharp, animalistic cry, she lunged forward, her manicured nails aimed directly at my face.
"You ungrateful little gutter trash!" she shrieked.
Before she could reach me, my father stepped in front of me, grabbing Eleanor’s wrists in mid-air with a firm, immovable grip.
"Don't touch my daughter," Arthur Vance said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl.
"Get off me!" Eleanor screamed, pulling her hands back and stumbling onto the marble floor. She looked up at us, her hair coming loose from its neat bun, her expensive makeup smeared with sweat and angry tears. "I will spend every last dollar I have to ensure you both end up broke, homeless, and in prison!"
"You don't have every last dollar anymore, Mrs. Whitmore," Tessa chimed in from the doorway, holding up her phone, which was actively recording every second of Eleanor's breakdown. "The Treasury Department froze all Whitmore family accounts ten minutes ago."
Eleanor froze on the floor. Her breath hitched. "What?"
"Standard procedure in federal asset forfeiture cases," I explained calmly, stepping past her toward the glass doors that led out to the grand rose garden. "You can't hire high-priced lawyers when you don't have access to your money, Eleanor."
Daniel crawled out of the library on his hands and knees, looking up at me with absolute despair.
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"Maya... please," he sobbed. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to take a breath of fresh air," I said, without looking back at him. "The trash in this room is getting unbearable."
