Chapter 8 - The Call to Langford
|
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. Arthur Langford had been my personal corporate attorney for over twenty-five years. He knew the inner workings of my estate better than anyone alive.
“Eleanor,” Arthur said quietly, his tone changing from professional concern to grave seriousness. “Are you entirely certain? Once I execute those filings, there is no turning back. Victor will lose everything.”
I looked back up the hill toward the glowing mansion. Through the high glass windows, I could see the party lights still flashing, the guests still dancing, completely oblivious to the earthquake heading their way.
“I am certain,” I replied softly. “Execute all of them.”
“Understood,” Arthur said smoothly. “I will notify the private security detail, the property management firm, and the county court server immediately. We will have the emergency injunctions served at first light.”
“Include the medical team and the police liaison,” I added, looking at my bruised reflection in the mirror. “I want a full forensic record of tonight’s events.”
“Did he put his hands on you, Eleanor?” Arthur’s voice dropped, laced with sudden, cold fury.
“He made his choice, Arthur,” I said gently. “Now he has to live with it.”
I hung up the phone and set it on the dashboard.
May you like
Victor believed he owned the Bel Air mansion because his name was on the decorative mailbox. He believed he was a self-made multi-millionaire because he held the title of President at a subsidiary firm.
He had spent five years living inside a gilded cage, completely unaware that I held the master key to every single lock.
