Chapter 3 - THE DEMOLITION OF OLYMPUSPanic is a physical weight, and for Richard Vance, it dropped like a ton of structural steel.
“You’re bluffing!” Richard screamed, his voice cracking as neighbors leaned over their fences, recording every second on their phones. “This is a prank! Maya! Tell them to stop this insanity right now! We have a mortgage! We have a life!”
From inside the foyer of the house, Maya turned slowly. She lowered her sunglasses just enough to reveal a gaze so frigid, so utterly devoid of human warmth, that Richard instinctively took a step back.
“We had a lease, Richard,” Maya said, her voice smooth and chillingly melodic. “And your tenancy has just been terminated.”
She turned and walked into the living room, gesturing to the corporate attorneys. “Begin the property audit.”
Within minutes, the front door swung open again, and Olivia—Richard’s mother, who lived three blocks over and had rushed over the moment she saw the helicopter—came storming up the walkway, her face purple with rage.
“What is going on here?!” Olivia shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at the security guards blocking her path. “Richard, why are these thugs on your property?! Who is this tramp in the sunglasses?!”
“Shut up, Mom! Just shut up!” Richard hissed, sweating profusely as his phone began buzzing uncontrollably in his hand—notifications from his bank, his employer, and his car loan provider, all screaming “ACCOUNT FROZEN: INSUFFICIENT FUNDS / LEGAL HOLD.”
Julian Sterling stepped smoothly between mother and son, sliding a crisp legal envelope into Olivia’s chest.
“Mrs. Vance, I presume?” Julian asked, his tone dripping with formal contempt. “As part of our preliminary asset recovery, Sterling Global has acquired the commercial real estate holding where you operate your boutique accounting firm. Your lease has been revoked, effective three minutes ago. The locks are already being changed.”
Olivia gasped, clutching her pearls. “You can’t do that! I’ve run my business for fifteen years! I know politicians! I know judges!”
“You know local magistrates who take bribes to look the other way,” Julian replied smoothly. “Federal prosecutors in our employ, however, operate on a slightly different tax bracket. Shall we discuss your embezzlement audit from 2022 while we're at it?”
Olivia’s face drained of every drop of color. She staggered back, grabbing onto a porch pillar to keep from collapsing.
Meanwhile, inside the house, the corporate liquidation was moving with terrifying efficiency. Movers hired by Sterling Logistics were systematically hauling out every single piece of furniture Richard owned—his massive screen TV, his designer leather sofa, his custom golf clubs, and his expensive whiskey collection—dumping them directly onto the front lawn into a chaotic, pathetic pile of trash.
And right at that moment, a sleek white sports car pulled up to the curb.
Vanessa stepped out, wearing oversized designer sunglasses and holding a iced macchiato, filming with her front-facing camera. “Babe! What is happening? Why are all your things on the grass? Are we moving into a bigger house?”
Richard wanted to sink straight through the asphalt to the center of the earth.
Vanessa had spent the last six months riding Richard’s coattails, bragging to her friends about how she was going to help him "upgrade" from his dull, submissive wife. The moment she saw the corporate helicopter, the armed guards, and the legal team surrounding Maya, her influencer smile completely shattered.
“Richard?” Vanessa asked, her voice dropping an octave as she lowered her phone. “Who are these people? Why is that waitress standing on the porch like a queen?”
Before Richard could answer, Maya stepped back out onto the landing, holding little Lily in her arms. Lily was wearing a brand-new, hand-stitched velvet dress, clutching a silver-plated music box.
Maya looked down at Vanessa with a look of absolute, pitying amusement.
“You can keep him, Vanessa,” Maya said clearly, her voice carrying across the entire silent street. “He comes with zero assets, seven hundred thousand dollars in undisclosed gambling debts, and a lifetime ban from every respectable hotel in Manhattan. Enjoy your prize.”
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Vanessa’s face went white as a sheet. She spun around toward her sports car, frantically grabbing her phone. “Richard, what is she talking about? What gambling debts?!”
“Vanessa, wait, babe, let me explain—” Richard lunged forward, but his car keys were already confiscated, his credit cards were dead plastic in his wallet, and his entire life had vanished in less than sixty minutes.
