Chapter 4 - The Hamptons Collapse
Two hours earlier.
The autumn sun was shining brightly over the manicured green lawns of the five-acre estate in East Hampton. White linen tables were decorated with rose-gold centerpieces, pink peonies, and crystal champagne flutes.
Michael Blackwood stood near the infinity pool, wearing a bespoke linen suit, holding a glass of Dom Pérignon. Beside him, Brooke Miller looked radiant in a pale pink silk gown, her small bump clearly visible as she laughed with three of her former college friends.
Eleanor sat at the head table, sipping her tea, holding court with several wealthy Manhattan socialites she had invited to demonstrate her son's "new direction."
"It’s just so wonderful," Eleanor was saying to a woman in a Chanel suit. "Michael is finally with a woman who appreciates family values. Sophia was always so... corporate. So rigid."
"Where is Sophia, by the way?" the woman asked, raising an eyebrow. "I heard she was quite unwell this morning."
Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you know Sophia. Always looking for attention. She had a minor dizzy spell and tried to turn it into a national tragedy. Michael told her to take a rest."
Near the cake table, Michael checked his watch.
1:45 PM.
He felt a slight twinge of nervousness in his chest, but he quickly pushed it down. Sophia was probably in bed at the townhouse, weeping into her pillows, waiting for him to come home so she could negotiate. She always came back. She was an educated, high-society girl; she wouldn't risk the scandal of a public divorce, especially not with a baby on the way.
Besides, his uncle sat on the hospital board. If Sophia tried to use Dr. Evans’s medical notes against him, he could easily spin it as the emotional instability of a high-risk pregnancy.
"Babe!" Brooke called out, waving him over to the wooden arch covered in pink roses. "It’s time for the gender reveal cannon! Come on!"
Michael smiled, stepping toward her, placing his arm around her waist. The photographer raised his camera.
"Ready everyone?" the event coordinator shouted through a megaphone. "In three... two... one—"
BOOM!
A cloud of bright pink powder exploded into the blue sky. The guests cheered and applauded. Brooke threw her arms around Michael’s neck, kissing him passionately on the lips while Eleanor clapped enthusiastically from the head table.
Before the pink dust could even settle on the grass, the heavy iron gates at the entrance of the estate slammed open with a deafening crash.
Two blue-and-yellow New York State Trooper sedans backed up the long gravel driveway, sirens flashing, followed by three black Lincoln Continentals.
The music cut off instantly. The guests turned, whispering in confusion as eight men in suits and two armed troopers stepped onto the pristine lawn.
Michael’s smile froze. "What the hell is this?"
Eleanor stood up, her face flushing with anger. "Is this a joke? Who invited the police to my grandson's reveal party?"
Harrison Vance stepped out from the lead Lincoln, holding a thick leather briefcase. He didn't look at the pink balloons or the catered tables. His eyes locked onto Michael with the precision of a sniper.
"Michael Blackwood?" Harrison’s voice boomed across the silent lawn.
Michael stepped forward, trying to look imposing. "Harrison? What are you doing here? This is a private estate—"
"This was a private estate rented using Sterling Capital corporate funds," Harrison corrected him, stepping right up to the stage. "As of 2:00 PM today, your corporate credit accounts have been canceled due to emergency executive termination."
A loud gasp went through the crowd.
Brooke’s hand dropped from Michael’s arm. "Executive... termination? Michael, what is he talking about?"
"Shut up, Brooke!" Michael snapped, his face going pale as he turned to Harrison. "You can't terminate me! Richard isn't even in the country!"
"Richard Sterling landed at Teterboro an hour ago," Harrison said coldly, pulling a thick stack of legal documents from his briefcase and slapping them directly against Michael’s linen suit jacket. "You are hereby served with a formal petition for divorce, an emergency freeze on all personal assets, and a criminal summons for reckless endangerment and domestic abandonment."
"Abandonment?!" Eleanor shrieked, running over in her Chanel flats. "She tripped on the stairs! My son didn't do anything!"
Harrison turned his icy gaze onto Eleanor.
"Mrs. Eleanor Blackwood," Harrison said softly. "I have a separate delivery for you."
He pulled a second folder from his coat and handed it to her.
"What is this?" Eleanor stuttered, her hands shaking.
"An immediate eviction order for 480 Park Avenue, Suite 12B," Harrison said. "The Sterling Trust owns the deed. The locks are being changed as we speak. Your personal belongings will be placed in a commercial storage facility in Queens tomorrow morning. You have until eight o'clock to collect your medication."
Eleanor’s eyes went wide. She clutched her throat, staggering backward into a row of white chairs, knocking over a tray of champagne glasses. "My... my apartment? You're taking my home?!"
"It was never your home, Eleanor," Harrison said flatly. "It was a loan. And the loan has been called in."
Michael grabbed Harrison’s lapel. "You can't do this! Sophia is my wife! She wouldn't do this to me!"
Harrison didn't even flinch. Two state troopers stepped forward instantly, grabbing Michael’s arms and twisting them behind his back, forcing him down onto his knees in front of his sixty guests.
"Sophia isn't on the phone, Michael," Harrison whispered into his ear as the handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists. "Sophia is in OR 4 at Mount Sinai, having an emergency C-section because you left her bleeding on the floor to eat cake."
Brooke let out a horrified scream, backing away from Michael like he was covered in poison. "He... he left her bleeding?!"
"Michael Blackwood," the trooper announced loudly, reading from a card. "You are being detained under suspicion of felony domestic endangerment pending a formal warrant from the Manhattan District Attorney."
As the troopers dragged Michael down the gravel driveway in front of his whispering, recording guests, the caterer stepped up to Brooke, holding a clipboard.
"Excuse me, ma'am," the caterer said. "The executive card for Blackwood Incorporated was just declined for the twelve-thousand-dollar catering fee. Who will be paying for the party?"
Brooke looked at Michael being shoved into the back of a police car.
May you like
Then she looked at Eleanor, who was sitting on the grass, sobbing into her pink silk dress.
And for the first time, Brooke realized that the man she had stolen came with nothing at all.
