Chapter 6 - Under the Hammer
Friday arrived bright and cold. The front lawn of the Hale estate, where I had once spent hours pulling weeds by hand under Vivian’s critical eye, was now covered with folding chairs and populated by dozens of wealthy collectors, liquidators, and news reporters.
A high wooden podium stood near the front entrance. Sitting in the front row of the temporary detention seating, under heavy police guard, were Daniel and Vivian. They wore orange county jail jumpsuits, their wrists bound by belly chains. Daniel looked sunken and defeated, his hair unwashed, while Vivian stared at the ground in hollow silence.
When my dark limousine pulled up to the gate, the crowd parted.
I stepped out wearing a tailored ivory wool coat, my hair styled impeccably, holding my head high. Behind me came four Mercer security guards and Harrison.
Daniel lifted his head as I walked past. His eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic plea. “Emma... Victoria... please. Look at me.”
I stopped and looked down at him. There was no anger left in my heart—only a deep, profound pity.
“Victoria, please tell them to drop the charges,” Daniel begged, his voice raspy. “I made mistakes, I know that! But we have a baby together! Think of Lily! She needs a father!”
“Lily has a mother who almost died because you couldn’t be bothered to answer a phone call,” I said, my voice echoing clearly over the silent crowd. “She will grow up knowing what real love looks like, Daniel. And it looks nothing like you.”
“You ruined my life!” Vivian spat suddenly, raising her head with a venomous glare. “You tricked us! You pretended to be poor!”
“I offered you my heart, Vivian,” I replied calmly. “You chose to throw dirty water at my feet. You reaped what you sowed.”
The auctioneer cleared his throat, taking his place at the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin the court-ordered liquidation of the real and personal property of Hale Holdings and the personal estate of Daniel and Vivian Hale. Item number one: the grand residence located at 104 Crestview Manor.”
The opening bid was set at five million dollars.
Several local investors raised their paddles, pushing the price up to seven million, then eight.
“Eight million five hundred thousand,” the auctioneer called out. “Do I hear nine?”
Harrison stepped forward, raising his paddle calmly. “Twenty million dollars.”
The crowd gasped. The local investors lowered their paddles immediately, unable to compete with that level of capital.
“Twenty million going once... twice... sold to Mercer Capital!” the auctioneer struck the gavel.
I walked over to the podium, signed the acquisition papers presented by the court bailiff, and turned back to face Daniel and Vivian.
“What are you going to do with my house?” Vivian wept, her composure completely shattered.
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“It’s not a house anymore,” I said softly. “Starting tomorrow, demolition crews will tear this place down to the foundation. In its place, Mercer Foundation will build the Lily Mercer Shelter for Survivors of Domestic Abuse and Neglect.”
Daniel stared at me, completely broken, as the police officers pulled him up from his chair to escort him back to the transport van.
