Chapter 6 - The Fallout and the First Counter-Strike
The silence of the estate was profound after the police cruisers departed, but my phone began vibrating almost instantly against the marble kitchen island.
It was Eleanor, calling for the fourth time in ten minutes.
I let it ring out to voicemail, watching the screen light up with frantic text messages demanding money for bail and legal representation.
Darcy, who had stayed behind to oversee the security sweep, poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.
“They thought you were trapped, Sloan,” Darcy noted, looking through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the empty driveway. “People like Julian and Eleanor build their entire worldview on the assumption that kindness equals submission. They genuinely cannot comprehend a boundary until it breaks their teeth.”
“They’re going to try to dismantle every asset we share,” I replied, opening my laptop to review our joint financial accounts.
“Let them try,” Darcy smiled sharply. “Julian’s personal accounts are tied to corporate credit cards that your family trust subsidized for years. The moment the arrest report hit the bank’s compliance desk, those cards were frozen. He doesn't even have enough cash in his pocket to buy a sandwich.”
May you like
True to her word, by noon, an urgent notification popped up from our corporate accountant: Julian had attempted to use his primary debit card at the local precinct vending machine and it had been declined for insufficient funds.
The empire built on my generosity had officially evaporated overnight.
