Chapter 4 - THE EMPEROR'S NEW FALL"That’s fraudulent!" Preston roared, his face flushing a deep, dangerous crimson. He took a menacing step toward the bed, forgetting for a second that he was in a public hospital and not his corporate boardroom. "You think you can flash some dusty old paper and steal a multi-million-dollar enterprise? I will tie you up in litigation until you are bankrupt and homeless!"
Odette, who had been sitting quietly in the corner chair watching the entire scene unfold like a spectator at an execution, stood up. She wasn't loud, but her presence filled the room.
"You might want to check your phone first, Mr. Callaway," Odette said sweetly, pointing a finger at Preston’s vibrating pocket. "Corporate liquid accounts don't wait for court dates."
Preston’s hand shook as he pulled his smartphone from his coat. He swiped the screen, squinting at an alert from the company’s chief financial officer.
The color drained entirely from his face. He staggered backward, his shoulder hitting the sterile white wall.
"It's... it's locked," Preston whispered, his voice cracking. "All operational accounts... frozen by the primary trust administrator. Corporate credit lines are revoked. The board emergency portal is locked out." He stared at Josephine, horrified. "You... you actually executed it."
"We didn't just freeze it," Josephine said calmly, sliding a second document across the tray. "We initiated the asset seizure. By noon today, the corporate headquarters, your personal estates, and your vehicles will be tagged under the receivership of the Vance Estate. You are, legally speaking, guests in your own corporate ecosystem."
Adele let out a sharp gasp, clutching her chest. "Weston! Do something! Fix this! Talk to your wife—tell her this is insane!"
Weston looked at me, truly looked at me for the first time since he had delivered his rehearsed speech by the window. All the polished arrogance was gone, replaced by a pathetic, raw desperation.
"Sable," he choked out, taking a step toward the bed, his hands trembling. "Please. We have a history. We loved each other. I panicked—my parents put so much pressure on me about Camille and the baby..."
"Camille?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "How is Camille taking the news, by the way? Does she know the executive assistant position she was sleeping her way into is now part of a bankrupt corporate shell owned by a newborn baby?"
Weston flinched as if he had been physically struck. "Sable, please. We can fix this. We can stay together. We can raise Marlo. Just... call off the lawyers."
I slowly leaned down, pulling Marlo’s white and pink blanket a little higher around her tiny shoulders. She stirred, letting out a soft, contented sigh, completely oblivious to the empire that had just crashed down around her father's feet.
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"When you stood by that window," I said softly, my voice carrying zero emotion, "you told me your family needs clarity. You told me the Callaway name has responsibilities." I looked up, meeting his tear-filled eyes. "I just gave you the ultimate clarity, Weston. You are entirely free from responsibilities now. No company. No estate. No legacy."
I turned my head toward the bailiffs. "Please escort these trespassers out of my room. My daughter needs to rest."
