Chapter 12 - Margaret’s Reality CheckWhile Emma’s new enterprise thrived, the remnants of the old guard were discovering the brutal reality of social exile in Boston.
Margaret Whitmore sat in her sunroom in Back Bay, staring at her landline phone as if it were a venomous snake. For decades, her social standing had depended entirely on her son’s perceived wealth and influence. She had been the matriarch of high-society charity galas, country club committees, and exclusive dinner parties.
Now, her phone remained silent.
The country club had quietly suspended her membership pending "dues restructuring." Her closest friends—women who had fawned over her during wedding dress fittings just months ago—suddenly found themselves too busy to return her calls.
A sharp knock echoed at the front door.
Margaret stiffened, smoothing her cashmere sweater before walking down the grand hallway to answer it. She expected a delivery or perhaps a neighbor. Instead, standing on her porch was a courier holding a thick stack of certified legal documents.
"Margaret Whitmore?" the courier asked mechanically.
"Yes?"
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"You've been served with a third-party subpoena regarding the commingling of personal residential assets with Walker Tech corporate funds," the courier said, handing the papers over without ceremony before turning on his heel.
Margaret clutched the papers to her chest, her hands trembling so violently she dropped her reading glasses onto the marble porch. The house she stood in—her beloved Back Bay home—had been mortgaged twice by Ethan to fund his luxury lifestyle and had been seized as part of the corporate asset forfeiture. She had thirty days to vacate.
