Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING AT SHAKER HEIGHTS
By 2:00 AM, the mansion in Shaker Heights was surrounded by moving trucks and private asset recovery teams.
I stood in the grand foyer, holding a hot cup of tea that Mrs. Martha had prepared for me. My father sat in the leather armchair in Julian’s former study, watching his legal team mark every piece of furniture, art, and high-end vehicle for immediate repossession.
Outside, the iron gates creaked open. A yellow tow truck pulled into the driveway, hooked up Julian’s beloved black SUV—the very one he had ridden in with Chloe hours earlier—and dragged it away into the night.
Mrs. Martha walked over to me, holding a small box containing my few personal belongings from before the marriage.
"Miss Clarissa," Martha said, tears of relief in her eyes. "Where will you go now?"
"Home to Chicago, Martha," I smiled gently. "And if you’d like, Vance International is hiring a head of estate management for our main residence. The salary is four times what Julian paid you, and you won't ever have to serve an arrogant fool again."
Mrs. Martha wiped her eyes and smiled widely. "I’ll pack my bags right now, ma'am."
Suddenly, the front door rattled violently.
Through the glass panel, I saw Julian’s mother, Victoria Cross, banging furiously on the wood. She had rushed over the moment the news aired on television.
I motioned for the guards to open the door.
Victoria burst into the foyer, her expensive coat misaligned, her face red with blind fury. "Clarissa! You wicked, vengeful woman! What have you done to my son?! He’s sitting in a jail cell! The news is saying our family accounts are frozen! How dare you do this to us after everything Julian did for you?!"
I didn't lose my temper. I didn't even raise my voice.
"Everything Julian did for me, Victoria?" I asked quietly. "Julian used my money to build his reputation. He humiliated me in front of your family at every holiday dinner. You called me a 'charity case' to my face last Christmas. Do you remember?"
Victoria stammered, stepping back as Arthur Vance walked out of the study, his tall, imposing figure filling the hallway.
"Who... who are you?" Victoria whispered, feeling the overwhelming weight of Arthur’s presence.
"I am the father of the woman you treated like a servant," Arthur said, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Your son’s bail has been set at $10 million. Since your family assets have been seized to satisfy his corporate debts, I suggest you sell your jewelry. Though, according to our valuation team, most of what Julian bought you was synthetic anyway."
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Victoria gasped, clutching her pearls—pearls that were now worthless. She looked at me, her eyes pleading. "Clarissa... please... he’s your husband... have mercy!"
"Mercy is earned, Victoria," I said, wrapping my mink coat tighter around my shoulders. "Julian had three years to show me mercy, love, or respect. He chose arrogance instead."
