Chapter 3 - The Eviction Notice
For three days, I stayed in the penthouse suite of the Four Seasons, ignoring the 147 missed calls from Marcus and the frantic text messages from Beatrice. I spent my days at Vance’s law firm, meticulously dismantling the financial illusion my husband had lived in.
By Thursday, Marcus was desperate. His company was in freefall. He needed a massive influx of cash to unfreeze his operations, and he thought he had a trump card: the mansion. Valued at $12 million, it had plenty of equity.
I was sitting in Vance’s office when my phone chimed with an alert from the security system at the estate. Marcus had brought a loan officer to the house.
"He's trying to take out a second mortgage," Vance said, looking at his dual monitors. "Should we let him?"
"No," I said, sipping my espresso. "It’s time to take my house back."
At 2:00 PM, Marcus and the loan officer were sitting in the grand dining room, papers spread across the table.
"The house is fully paid off," Marcus was saying confidently. "My mother and I have lived here for years. We just need to tap into five million to float my company."
The loan officer typed Marcus’s information into his database, his brow furrowing. "Mr. Vance... I'm pulling the property records now. You aren't listed on the deed."
"What? Of course I am."
"No, sir. The property is owned entirely by an LLC called Aegis Holdings. You have no legal claim to this estate, and therefore, you cannot borrow against it."
Before Marcus could scream at the man, the heavy front doors swung open.
I walked in, flanked by two massive private security contractors and Vance Sterling, who looked like a shark smelling blood in the water. I was wearing a sharp, tailored crimson suit and holding a thick manila folder.
Beatrice came rushing out of the parlor, her face pale and gaunt from three days of no shopping and panicked phone calls. "What is she doing here? Get her out!" she shrieked at Marcus.
"Actually, Beatrice," I said, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "I’m here to kick you out."
Marcus lunged toward me, but the two security guards stepped forward, their hands resting ominously on their belts. Marcus froze.
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"Serena, what the hell is this?" Marcus demanded. "What is Aegis Holdings?"
I smiled, dropping the manila folder onto the dining table. "I am Aegis Holdings, Marcus. I bought this house. I funded your failing company. I paid for your mother’s designer wardrobe. And as of this morning, the eviction notice has been processed by the county clerk. You have exactly one hour to pack your bags and leave my property."
