Chapter 7
The rhythmic rumble of diesel engines rattled the mansion's leaded glass windows.
Elfrida rushed to the balcony doors, pulling back the heavy velvet drapes. Outside, bathed in the harsh white glare of portable halogen work lights, sat four unmarked, twenty-six-foot commercial moving trucks. Dozens of men in black work jackets were already pouring out of the cabs, carrying heavy packing crates, furniture dollies, and industrial wrapping plastic.
And standing beside the lead truck, his dark overcoat fluttering in the evening wind, was Lysander.
Beside him stood Julian Vance, holding a leather clipboard illuminated by a penlight.
"What is he doing?!" Elfrida cried, rushing toward the library doors. "He’s looting my house!"
"It isn't your house," Marcus whispered from the corner, slumping against the bookshelf. "He bought the secondary mortgage six months ago through an offshore LLC. We never checked the corporate registry."
Elfrida ignored him, storming down the grand marble staircase, her silk robe billowing behind her like a shroud. She burst through the front entrance, stepping out onto the gravel portico just as two moving men began unbolting an eighteenth-century bronze statue from the foyer.
"Stop! Put that down!" she shrieked, lunging toward the workers. "This is private property! I am calling the state police!"
"The state police have already reviewed the writ of execution, Elfrida," Julian Vance called out from the bottom of the steps. He tapped the clipboard with his gold pen. "Under the terms of the North Ridge leasehold, default on operational maintenance permits the lienholder to repossess all interior furnishings, art pieces, and fixtures purchased under the family foundation."
Elfrida spun around, her eyes landing on Lysander.
He stood near the fountain, his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets, his cigarette glowing faintly in the gloom. He looked at her not with anger, but with the cold amusement of a homeowner watching an exterminator clear out a hornet's nest.
"You're an animal, Lysander!" Elfrida screamed, her voice cracking as tears of pure rage poured down her swollen face. "You strip the roof from your own family! Our grandfather built this dynasty!"
Lysander took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of blue smoke into the cool night air.
"Your grandfather was an accountant who stole from the dockworkers' pension funds," Lysander said, his voice calm, heavy, and resonant. "I am the one who rebuilt this empire with blood and iron after your father ran it into insolvency. Every stone of this house was paid for by Clara’s shipping contracts. You have lived off her ghost for three years, mocking her daughter while drinking her wine."
"Clara was a traitor!" Elfrida spat, stepping toward the edge of the portico. "She knew what you were! She spent four months in Switzerland before she died, hiding from you! Why do you think she kept Effie’s trust locked in a blind vault? She didn't trust you to raise her!"
Lysander stopped.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The moving men on the portico immediately paused their work, freezing in place as if sensing the sudden lethal drop in temperature.
Lysander tossed the cigarette onto the gravel and crushed it beneath his polished shoe. He ascended the stone stairs, one slow, deliberate step at a time.
Elfrida’s breath hitched. She backed away toward the open front door, but her silk robe caught on the doorframe, pinning her in place.
Lysander stopped on the landing, towering over her like an ancient god of judgment.
"Clara went to Zurich because her lungs were failing," Lysander said, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper that seemed to echo inside her skull. "She kept the trust blind because she knew you and your vulture uncle would try to poison my daughter the moment she drew her last breath. And she was right."
May you like
He leaned down, his face inches from hers.
"You have until midnight to pack two suitcases of personal clothing," Lysander commanded. "If I find you, Bartholomew, or Marcus on this property after twelve o'clock, Viktor will take you to the industrial docks. And you will see how long you survive working the graveyard shift on the cargo cranes."
