Chapter 9
The twenty-four-hour eviction deadline triggered a chaotic, humiliating exodus from the grand Thorn estate. The opulent mansion, once a symbol of unyielding power and generational arrogance, had been transformed into a tomb of panic.
Edward paced the length of his sprawling master study, his phone pressed aggressively to his ear. He had spent the last twelve hours frantically calling every politician he had bribed, every judge he had paid off, and every underground contact he had cultivated over three decades.
One by one, they all hung up on him.
The underworld was notoriously pragmatic. Word had spread rapidly that Apex Holdings had entirely dismantled the Thorn infrastructure, and no one was willing to risk their own empire to save a sinking ship. Edward was radioactive.
"You cowards!" Edward screamed into the phone as the final contact disconnected the line. He hurled the expensive smartphone across the room. It shattered against the marble fireplace, joining the wreckage of his shattered legacy.
Downstairs, the scene was even more pathetic. Marguerite, still heavily bandaged and unable to speak clearly, was frantically trying to stuff designer dresses and expensive jewelry into a set of rolling luggage. Her children, stripped of their pristine tailored suits and forced to pack their own bags, were crying in the foyer. The luxury cars in the driveway had already been towed away by repo men operating under Apex’s orders.
They were being forced out into the freezing winter night with absolutely nothing but what they could carry.
As the sun began to set, casting long, cinematic shadows across the snow-covered grounds, the heavy iron gates of the estate swung open.
A sleek, black, heavily armored SUV rolled slowly up the winding driveway. The vehicle came to a smooth, silent halt directly in front of the grand entrance. The tinted windows made it impossible to see inside, but the imposing, lethal aura of the vehicle was undeniable.
Edward, hearing the engine, rushed out of the front doors and stood at the top of the grand stone staircase. Marguerite hobbled out behind him, clutching a single suitcase, her one good eye wide with terror.
The rear door of the SUV opened.
Linnea stepped out into the freezing air.
She wasn't wearing the simple, dark dress from the banquet. She was dressed impeccably in a custom-tailored, charcoal wool winter coat over a sharp, professional pantsuit. She looked powerful, elegant, and entirely untouchable. The mysterious, quiet daughter was gone forever, replaced entirely by the ruthless CEO who had just conquered their world.
She didn't walk up the stairs. She stood by the open door of her vehicle, her dark eyes locking onto the two broken figures standing on the porch.
"Linnea!" Edward roared, his voice cracking horribly. He took a step down the stairs, pointing a shaking finger at her. "You ungrateful wretch! You stole everything from me! I am your father!"
Linnea didn't flinch. She simply looked at him, her expression a mask of cold, terrifying stone. She thought of her son, crying from hunger while this man ate steak.
"You are not a father," Linnea replied, her voice carrying effortlessly over the freezing wind, sharp and lethal. "You are a parasite. And I just exterminated you."
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She looked past him, locking eyes with Marguerite. The older sister shrank back, whimpering softly through her wired jaw.
"I told you," Linnea whispered, the devastating finality of her words chilling the blood of the people on the porch. "I told you to enjoy your last meal in this house."
