Chapter 7
The morning sun rose over the city, casting a brilliant, unforgiving light that seemed to mirror Emily’s new reality. The colors of the skyline were sharp and vivid. Inside Emily’s heavily secured luxury penthouse, the atmosphere was one of serene, untouchable peace. The girls were safely asleep in their massive, plush beds, watched over by a trusted nanny.
Across the city, however, the Carter estate was descending into absolute, chaotic hell.
Michael Carter awoke with a throbbing, miserable hangover. The memory of the overturned table, the shattered crystal, and the absolute humiliation in front of the city's elite pounded against his skull. He rolled out of bed, his fair, rosy skin pale and slick with sweat. He stumbled into his luxurious bathroom and turned on the gold-plated faucets to splash water on his face.
He needed to fix this. He needed to buy Emily some extravagant, overpriced piece of jewelry, apologize, and charm his way back into her good graces. It was the cycle they always followed. She would get angry, he would turn on the charm, and the money would keep flowing.
Michael walked back into his bedroom and picked up his smartphone. He dialed his private concierge service to order a custom diamond necklace.
"Good morning, Mr. Carter," the concierge answered cheerfully.
"I need the Cartier boutique opened for a private viewing," Michael rasped, rubbing his temples. "I'm looking for a piece in the fifty-thousand range. Put it on the black card."
"One moment, sir," the concierge said. A few seconds of silence passed, followed by a confused throat clearing. "Sir... I'm sorry, but your primary account is showing as locked. The black card is declining."
Michael froze. "That's impossible. Run it again."
"I have, sir. It says the account has been frozen by the primary account holder due to suspicious activity. I cannot authorize the purchase."
"Fine! Use the platinum reserve card!" Michael shouted, panic beginning to pierce through his hangover.
"Sir, all linked accounts are completely frozen," the concierge replied, his tone cooling significantly. "You currently have no available credit."
Michael threw the phone against the wall, shattering the screen. His heart hammered violently against his ribs. He rushed to his walk-in closet, pulling on a suit with shaking hands. Emily was throwing a tantrum. She was trying to scare him. He needed to get to the corporate office, assert his authority as the Vice President of Acquisitions, and force the finance department to override the blocks.
He practically sprinted down the grand staircase of the estate. He found his mother, Jessica, sitting in the ruined dining room. The overturned table had been righted by the staff, but the stains on the floor remained. Jessica was clutching a pile of mail, her hands shaking violently.
May you like
"Michael," Jessica gasped, looking up at her son with wide, terrified eyes. She held up a thick, legal document. "A courier just dropped this off. It's a notice of eviction. Emily transferred the deed... she’s kicking us out."
Michael snatched the paper from his mother’s hands, his eyes scanning the aggressive legal jargon. The blood drained entirely from his face. This wasn't a tantrum. This was an execution.
