In Tears, She Signed the Divorce at Christmas Dinner — Nobody Knew Her Father Was a Billionaire
Immediate Possession
Arthur turned back to Liam.
“You have no investors. You have no house. You have no wife.”
Arthur picked up the divorce papers Elena had signed. He looked at the five thousand dollar settlement figure and chuckled.
“You wanted a financial split?”
Arthur asked.
*”We accept. Elena takes what is hers. And since I now own your debts, and you have defaulted as of five minutes ago, I believe we will be taking everything else.”
Elena stepped forward, standing next to her father. She looked at Liam, whose life had just disintegrated in the span of three minutes.
“Merry Christmas, Liam,”
Elena said.
*”I hope you enjoy the snow. You’ll be sleeping in it tonight.”
The silence in the dining room was shattered by the sound of cutlery hitting the floor. Mrs. Durham had dropped her fork.
“You can’t do this!”
Beatrice stammered, her face losing all its color.
The heavy makeup suddenly looked like cracks in a porcelain mask.
“This is my home! My husband built this house!”
“And you mortgaged it three times to fund a lifestyle you couldn’t afford,”
Arthur Vance said calmly, checking his watch.
“The bank was going to foreclose on January 15th; I simply expedited the process. I bought the note at 4:30 p.m. today. As the new owner, I am exercising my right to immediate possession.”
Arthur turned to the lead security officer.
“Jones, please escort the trespassers off the property. They have ten minutes to collect essential items. No valuables, no jewelry—only clothes.”
Layering Up
“Ten minutes?”
Liam shouted, finding his voice.
“This is insane! It’s Christmas night! It’s ten degrees below zero out there!”
Elena took a sip of the red wine that had been poured for her—a vintage bottle Beatrice had been saving for years.
“It was cold in the guest room too, Liam. Remember when I asked for a space heater and you told me to put on another sweater? I suggest you start layering up.”
“Elena, please,”
Liam begged, his arrogance dissolving into pathetic desperation.
He moved toward her, hands outstretched.
“We can talk about this.”
“I didn’t know.”
“If I had known who you were—”
“That’s exactly the problem, Liam,”
Elena said, her eyes flashing with cold fire.
“You needed to know my bank balance to treat me like a human being. That’s why we’re here.”
Sarah, who had been watching the scene unfold with horror, suddenly grabbed her purse. She stood up, smoothing her skirt.
“Well,”
Sarah said, her voice high and tight.
“this seems like a family matter. Liam, call me when—when this is sorted.”
She turned to leave, but Liam grabbed her arm.
“Sarah, where are you going? You’re supposed to stay with me! We’re partners!”
Sarah ripped her arm away, looking at him with pure disgust.
“Partners? Liam, you’re destitute. My father isn’t going to invest in a bankrupt architect living on the street. It’s over.”
She looked at Mr. Durham.
“Daddy, let’s go.”
“Sit down,”
Arthur Vance commanded.
Sarah and Mr. Durham froze.
“Nobody leaves until my team clears you,”
Arthur said.
“Jones, check their bags. I want to make sure no Sterling assets are walking out the door.”
Absolute Humiliation
The humiliation was absolute. The security team dumped Sarah’s Louis Vuitton bag onto the table.
Lipsticks, a phone, and a small silver snuff box belonging to the Sterling estate rolled out.
“Thief!”
Beatrice gasped.
“I was just borrowing it,”
Sarah shrieked.
“Get them out,”
Elena said, waving her hand wearily.
“I’m tired of looking at them.”
The next ten minutes were a blur of chaotic misery. The security team marched Beatrice, Liam, and the guests into the foyer.
Beatrice tried to run upstairs to her jewelry safe, but a guard blocked her path.
“Essentials only, Mom,”
the guard said.
He handed her a heavy wool coat from the closet.
“Put this on.”
“My diamonds!”
Beatrice wailed.
“My mother’s pearls!”
“Belong to the estate,”
Arthur called out from the dining room, where he was calmly slicing a piece of turkey.
*”Which belongs to me. Which, by extension, belongs to Elena.”
Liam stood by the door holding a pair of boots. He looked back at Elena, who had followed them into the hallway.
She stood on the grand staircase, looking down at them—a reversal of the position she had occupied for three years.
“Elena,”
Liam whispered.
“Where are we supposed to go?”
Elena reached into her pocket. She pulled out the gift certificate Beatrice had given her that morning—the one for the employment agency.
She fluttered it down the stairs. It landed at Liam’s feet.
“There,”
Elena said.
“That should help you get back on your feet. I hear they have openings for construction labor. It’s good, honest work, Liam.”
Into the White Void
Beatrice let out a sob of rage.
“You witch! You planned this! You entrapped us!”
“I just signed the papers you gave me,”
Elena said.
“Goodbye, Beatrice. Or should I say, Mrs. Sterling?”
The heavy oak doors were opened. The wind howled into the warm foyer, bringing a swirl of snow.
The security guards gently but firmly pushed them out. Beatrice stumbled in her heels; Liam tried to steady her.
Sarah and her parents ran for their car, the engine roaring as they peeled out of the driveway, leaving the Sterlings behind.
Liam and Beatrice stood on the driveway of the mansion they used to own. The snow was already soaking through their thin indoor shoes.
The massive doors slammed shut. The lock clicked.
Inside, Elena walked to the window and watched them. She saw Liam banging on the door for a moment, then giving up.
She saw them walking down the long, frozen driveway toward the main road—two dark figures disappearing into the white void.
“Are you okay?”
Arthur asked, coming up behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder.
Elena touched the glass.
“I thought I would feel guilty,”
she whispered.
“I thought I would feel sad. And I feel—”
She took a deep breath.
“—lighter than I have in my entire life.”
Arthur smiled.
*”Good. Because the real work starts tomorrow. They won’t take this lying down. People like Beatrice never do. They’re like cornered rats; they’ll bite.”
“Let them bite,”
Elena said, turning away from the window.
“I have teeth now too.”
The Golden Glades Motel
Three weeks later, the Golden Glades Motel was anything but golden.
It was a roadside establishment on the outskirts of New Jersey, the kind of place where the neon sign buzzed incessantly and the sheets smelled of stale cigarette smoke.
Room 104 was cramped. Clothes were piled on the cheap laminate chairs; takeout containers littered the small table.
Beatrice Sterling sat on the edge of the bed staring at the TV. A local news station was playing.
“In business news, Vance Global has announced the acquisition of Sterling Architecture, aiming to repurpose the failing firm’s assets into affordable housing projects. The initiative is being led by Arthur Vance’s daughter, the newly revealed Elena Vance, who has taken the city by storm.”
On the screen, Elena looked radiant. She was wearing a white power suit, cutting a ribbon at a construction site.
She looked powerful, beautiful, rich. Beatrice threw the remote control at the TV.
It cracked the screen but didn’t stop the image of Elena smiling.
“She’s mocking us,”
Beatrice hissed.
“She’s turning our legacy into—into poorhouses!”
Liam came out of the bathroom. He looked terrible; he hadn’t shaved in days, and he had lost weight.
“Mother, stop it. We have bigger problems. The credit cards are all declined. The manager says if we don’t pay by tomorrow, we’re out.”
“We are not paying!”
Beatrice snapped.
“We are going to take back what is ours!”
“How?”
Liam slumped onto the other bed.
*”She has billions, Mother. We have twelve dollars and a bus pass.”
