Chapter 6 - The Mistress’s Exit
While Eleanor was learning what it meant to be a nobody on the city sidewalks, Vanessa Sterling was discovering that luxury built on stolen foundations vanishes just as quickly as it appears.
Vanessa’s phone buzzed incessantly against the marble countertop of the luxury penthouse apartment she shared with Adrian. She ignored it, frantically stuffing designer handbags, diamond tennis bracelets, and custom silk dresses into three oversized Louis Vuitton suitcases.
The smart-lock on the penthouse door beeped loudly.
The heavy oak door swung open, and two federal marshals, accompanied by a representative from Vale Consolidated’s asset recovery division, stepped into the foyer.
"Miss Vanessa Vance," the lead marshal announced, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "You are trespassing on property under federal seizure. You have exactly thirty minutes to vacate the premises."
Vanessa slammed the lid of her suitcase shut and spun around, her face flushed with anger and panic. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know who I am? I am engaged to Adrian Hawthorne! This is our home!"
"Adrian Hawthorne was arrested twenty minutes ago at the Vale Consolidated Tower on charges of corporate embezzlement and financial fraud," the marshal replied flatly, holding out an official eviction warrant. "All assets, properties, and accounts registered under his name or associated corporate entities have been seized. This penthouse belongs to Vale Real Estate Holdings."
Vanessa’s knees wobbled. She grabbed the edge of the dressing table to steady herself. "Arrested? No... no, that’s impossible. He’s a billionaire! He has lawyers!"
"He had a job funded by money that wasn't his," the representative from Vale Consolidated corrected coldly, stepping further into the room. He pointed to her pile of luggage. "You may take your personal clothing and accessories. Jewelry purchased with corporate credit lines remains on the premises."
"Those diamonds were gifts!" Vanessa shrieked, lunging toward her jewelry box.
The marshal stepped in front of her with practiced ease, blocking her path. "Every single piece of jewelry in that box was invoiced to Hawthorne Enterprises corporate accounts under fraudulent expense codes. Touch them, and you’ll be booked as an accessory to embezzlement."
Vanessa froze, her fingers hovering inches from the velvet box. The realization washed over her like a freezing wave. The man she had seduced, the man she thought was her golden ticket to high society, the man she had helped humiliate a pregnant woman in the rain—he wasn't a king. He was a thief who had been caught red-handed.
"You can't do this to me," Vanessa whispered, tears of pure rage springing to her eyes. "I gave up everything for him! I ruined my reputation!"
"You didn't ruin your reputation, miss," the marshal said, turning toward the door. "You just bet on the wrong horse. Thirty minutes. Pack your bags."
Thirty minutes later, Vanessa stood on the sidewalk outside the high-rise apartment building, dragging three heavy suitcases behind her. A light drizzle began to fall, pattering against the pavement.
She pulled out her phone, dialing her wealthy friends one by one—the people she had partied with, the people who had cheered her on when she wore my silk robe on the Hawthorne estate porch.
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
May you like
“Your call cannot be completed as dialed.”
One by one, every number hung up. Every door slammed shut. Vanessa stood in the rain, crying mascara down her cheeks, realizing with terrifying clarity what it felt like to be completely disposable.
