CHAPTER 3: THE EVICTION WAR
The Billionaire Patriarch Strikes Back, Demanding the Child be Erased
"Over my dead body," Richard growled.
He stood up, towering over Vance. The warmth that had filled Richard’s eyes during Emma’s graduation was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, predatory fury that made even the two hired thugs behind Vance take a involuntary step back.
"You think you can intimidate me, Vance?" Richard sneered. "I am a Maxwell. I know every single dirty trick my father has ever used, because I helped build the legal shields that protect him. You touch this family again, and I will tear Maxwell Enterprises down brick by brick."
Vance didn't flinch. He simply pulled out his phone and pressed a button, placing it on the table. A cold, raspy voice echoed through the speaker.
It was Charles Maxwell.
"Richard," the old man’s voice sounded like dry leaves scraping against concrete. "Do not let emotion cloud your intellect. You have always been my most capable son. Julian was a weak, idealistic fool, and his spawn will only bring ruin to our legacy. Walk away now. I will buy you any architecture firm in Europe. I will double your shares. But leave the girl. She does not exist."
Richard picked up the phone, holding it close to his face. "She is Julian’s daughter, Father. She is your granddaughter. How can you be this monstrous?"
"A granddaughter born of filth is no granddaughter of mine," Charles replied coldly. "You have until tomorrow morning to make your choice, Richard. Choose the girl, and you lose everything. Your money, your reputation, your freedom. I will frame you for the corporate espionage Julian was planning. I have the documents ready. Choose wisely."
The line went dead.
Vance smirked, picking up his phone. "We’ll be back tomorrow at 9:00 AM with the eviction marshals and Child Protective Services. Have a good night, Mr. Maxwell."
As the door closed behind them, Martha let out a weak, desperate sob. "Richard... what are we going to do? They will take her. I can't protect her anymore."
Richard turned to Martha, his face grim but determined. "We are leaving. Right now."
He woke Emma gently. "Emma, sweetheart, we need to go on a little adventure. Can you pack your favorite things in your backpack?"
Emma blinked sleepily, but seeing the worry on her Nana’s face, she nodded bravely. She grabbed her favorite storybook, her drawing pad, and the gold box of chocolates Richard had given her.
Within thirty minutes, Richard had loaded Martha into the back seat of his Audi, lying down comfortably with pillows and blankets. Emma sat next to her, holding her hand. Richard drove them to his private penthouse in the heart of downtown Portland—a high-security fortress where his father’s thugs couldn't easily reach them.
But Richard knew defensive play wouldn't win this war. He needed ammunition. He needed the proof Julian had gathered before he died.
"Martha," Richard said as he settled them into his guest rooms. "Where did Julian keep his files? Did he leave anything behind with Sarah?"
Martha looked up, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "In the attic of our old house... before we moved to this rental. I saved one box. It’s in the crawlspace of the blue house we just left. Under the loose floorboard beneath the old sewing machine. I couldn't carry it with me, so I hid it there, hoping one day Emma would be old enough to understand."
Richard looked at the clock. It was 2:00 AM.
"I’m going back for it," Richard said.
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"It’s a trap, Richard!" Martha warned, grabbing his wrist. "They know you will look for it!"
"I don't care," Richard said, his voice absolute. "He was my brother. And she is my daughter now."
