Chapter 3 - The Price of ArroganceBella didn't wait for a second invitation.
Humiliated, her white sundress catching the sea breeze like a flag of surrender, she turned on her heel and practically ran down the stone pathway toward the front gates. Not a single Ashford family member stood up to walk her out. In this family, weakness was contagious, and Bella had just been marked as a walking infection.
The silence on the terrace returned, heavier and more suffocating than before.
Owen stood frozen, staring at the divorce papers like a man watching a bomb countdown. The sun beat down on his cream trousers, but he was shivering. He knew better than anyone what lived inside those files. The London shell companies weren't just a corporate misstep; they were an active federal investigation that Catherine had managed to stall using her late father’s judicial connections.
Without Catherine’s legal shield, the indictment would drop within forty-eight hours. Owen would face prison time, and Ashford Holdings would be liquidated to pay off federal fines.
“Sit down, Owen,” Patricia commanded, her voice dropping into the terrifying register she reserved for boardroom coups.
Owen collapsed into the chair—not the one meant for his mistress, but his own designated seat at the head of the table. His hands hovered over the divorce papers, trembling so badly he could barely pinch the corner of the top page.
“Catherine,” Patricia said, turning her sharp, lined face toward her granddaughter-in-law. Her tone was carefully modulated, stripped of warmth but heavy with pragmatic respect. “Let us not air family grievances in front of the staff. Come sit. We can discuss a... restructuring of terms.”
Catherine didn't move. She remained standing by the veranda doors, looking down at the dynasty that had treated her like an employee for three agonizing years.
“There is nothing to discuss, Patricia,” Catherine said clearly. “The terms are right there on the paper. I want the Palm Beach estate transferred entirely to my name by sunset. I want full ownership of the medical foundation. And I want Owen’s resignation from the CEO position filed with the board before dinner.”
“Are you out of your mind?!” Owen roared, springing out of his chair so fast it tipped backward onto the stone. “You want to strip me of everything?! I built this company!”
“You inherited a functioning legacy and turned it into a money-laundering playground,” Catherine shot back, her voice echoing across the ocean terrace. “And every single person sitting at this table knows it.”
Cousin Julian cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Well... looking at the fiscal exposure Owen brought onto us last quarter... maybe Catherine’s points are worth considering—”
“Shut up, Julian!” Owen screamed, his face flushing a violent shade of crimson. He turned back to Catherine, his eyes wide and unhinged. “You think you can ruin me? You think my mother will let you walk away with the estate? We’ll fight you in court for ten years! We’ll bleed you dry!”
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Catherine smiled calmly, sliding her phone out of her tote bag. She tapped the screen twice and turned it toward him, displaying a live video feed of a federal marshal’s vehicle parked just outside the front security gates.
“You have until five o’clock to sign, Owen,” Catherine said quietly. “The marshals have the audit files on a USB drive. All I have to do is hit ‘send’.”
