Chapter 4 - The Eviction of the QueenWith Julian behind bars and the corporate embezzlement case airtight, there was only one loose end left to tie up before I could return to the hospital to look after Clara and our unborn child.
My mother’s estate.
By noon, my convoy of three black SUVs pulled up outside the sprawling iron gates of my multi-million-dollar suburban mansion.
Eleanor’s silver Mercedes was parked right in the driveway. Through the living room windows, I could see her pacing back and forth, holding a phone to her ear, presumably screaming at her lawyer or one of her wealthy socialite friends about the catastrophe that had just unfolded.
I stepped out of the vehicle, flanked by four private security guards.
I didn't bother knocking. I swiped my master digital key, and the heavy oak front doors swung wide open.
Eleanor spun around, her face twisted in fury. “Sebastian! Thank God! You need to fix this right now! Julian called me from the police station—they actually arrested him! Have you lost your absolute mind? Call your lawyers immediately and—"
“Shut your mouth, Eleanor,” I cut her off.
The coldness in my voice struck her like a physical blow. She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging slightly open.
“What... what did you just call me?” she whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief. “I am your mother! I raised you! I wiped your nose, I fed you, I—"
“You abused my wife. You starved the woman who sacrificed her only heirlooms to keep my first business afloat. You plotted to steal my child and institutionalize my wife. And on top of all that, you helped my brother steal four million dollars from my company.”
Eleanor’s face turned the color of ash. She stumbled back a step, gripping the back of the velvet sofa for support. “That... that’s a lie! That gold-digger filled your head with garbage—!”
“Marcus,” I called out.
Marcus stepped forward from behind my guards, holding a thick stack of legal documents and a red eviction notice.
“Eleanor Vance,” Marcus said in a crisp, emotionless tone. “By order of Vance Holdings and the Superior Court of Cook County, your residency rights to this property have been permanently revoked. You have exactly thirty minutes to pack your personal belongings and vacate the premises.”
“You... you’re evicting me? Your own mother?!” Eleanor shrieked, her voice cracking with hysterical rage. “You’re throwing me out onto the street for a piece of trash?!”
“That ‘piece of trash’ is my wife, the mother of my child, and the only reason you ever lived a day of luxury in this house,” I replied, stepping closer to her, towering over her with burning intensity. “Every credit card is frozen. Every luxury car registered under my name is locked. You have thirty minutes, Eleanor. After that, my security team won't just throw your bags out—they’ll throw you out with them.”
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She stared at me, finally realizing that the son she had manipulated for thirty years was gone. The boy who used to obey her every command had been replaced by a ruthless corporate titan who had just destroyed her entire world.
Without another word, she turned around and ran upstairs toward her bedroom, sobbing hysterically and slamming doors in a frantic, pathetic rush to salvage whatever pride she had left.
