Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
Diane sank onto the white linen sofa, her emerald gown bunching around her like crumpled tissue paper. Her hands were covering her face, her shoulders shaking with dry, panicked sobs.
Marcus stood by the fireplace, his collar unbuttoned, his silk tie hanging loose, staring at the floor as if the timber might open up and swallow him whole.
Chloe was the only one still screaming.
“You can’t do this!” she shrieked, kicking a fallen champagne glass across the oak floor. It shattered against the hearth, shards scattering over the limestone. “This is our home! We’ve lived here for two years! You can’t just walk in here with a piece of paper and kick us out onto the street! We have rights! Harrison, tell her we have tenant rights!”
Harrison Croft had already retreated to the foyer, clutching his briefcase to his chest like a shield.
“Harrison left five minutes ago, Chloe,” Victor Vance said dryly from the console table. “He’s currently driving back to Richmond to draft his letter of withdrawal as your legal counsel so he doesn’t get disbarred for representing parties with conflicting fraudulent interests.”
Victor reached into his briefcase and pulled out a second document.
“Furthermore, Marcus,” Victor continued, looking directly at the sweating man by the hearth. “You should be aware that Blackwood Oak Holdings LLC is not merely the owner of this parcel. It is also the majority creditor of Sterling Modular Logistics.”
Marcus’s head snapped up. His eyes were bloodshot, frantic. “What?”
“Arthur purchased the mezzanine debt notes on your freight terminal eighteen months ago through an offshore subsidiary,” Victor explained, his tone completely flat, devoid of mercy. “You owe Blackwood Oak Holdings three point seven million dollars, due and payable on November first. If the full balance is not received in certified funds by five o’clock on that date, Major Sterling will initiate immediate foreclosure proceedings against your corporate headquarters, your Richmond yard, and your personal residence in Henrico County.”
Marcus’s legs gave out. He collapsed into one of the wingback leather chairs Arthur used to read in, his breathing shallow and ragged.
“He... Arthur did that?” Marcus whispered, his voice broken. “Arthur funded my debt?”
“Arthur knew you were cooking the books, Marcus,” Elena said, stepping closer to him. “He knew you were skimming twenty thousand dollars a month from the payroll accounts to finance Chloe’s lifestyle and keep Diane quiet about your losses. He let you run the line out until you hung yourself with it.”
Diane dropped her hands from her face. Her makeup was ruined, black mascara streaking her cheeks, her eyes hollow and filled with genuine terror.
“Elena,” Diane whimpered. She tried to stand, but her knees were shaking so hard she had to grip the armrest of the sofa. “Elena, please. You can’t do this to me. I’m an old woman. I have nowhere to go. Arthur wouldn't have wanted me on the street. Think of what people will say! Think of the family name!”
“The family name?” Elena looked around the empty, magnificent room Arthur had built with his bare hands. “You spent twenty years treating this name like an ATM card. You didn't even put a headstone on Arthur’s grave until the cemetery threatened to fine you six months after his funeral because you said granite was ‘unreasonably expensive’ that quarter.”
Diane flinched as if struck across the mouth.
“You have twenty-four hours,” Elena said.
The room went dead.
Chloe gasped. “Twenty-four hours? Are you insane? We have furniture here! We have clothes! We have art!”
“Everything in this house was inventoried by an independent probate auditor three days after Arthur’s passing,” Victor Vance said, tapping a third file. “Every painting, every Persian rug, every piece of silver, and every bottle in the cellar belongs to Blackwood Oak Holdings. You may take your personal clothing and your toiletries. If a single piece of Arthur’s art or furniture leaves this property, Sheriff Miller will arrest you at the front gate for grand larceny.”
Sheriff Miller, who was still standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest, nodded once in silent confirmation.
“Twenty-four hours,” Elena repeated. “Tomorrow night at ten o'clock, the locks will be changed. The security codes will be reset. And the Louisa County Sheriff’s Department will have permanent orders to detain anyone attempting to breach the perimeter.”
Elena turned on her heel and walked toward the front doors.
“Elena!” Diane cried out, lunging forward on her knees, her emerald dress trailing across the shattered glass on the floor. “Elena, please! What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to live on?”
Elena stopped at the threshold of the great iron doors. The rain outside had begun to clear, cold autumn moonlight breaking through the clouds to illuminate the black water of Lake Anna.
She looked back at the woman who had spent fifteen years calling her a charity case.
May you like
“You have the Great Falls house, Diane,” Elena said calmly. “I suggest you sell it before the bank takes it. And if that’s not enough... I hear the community college in Fairfax is hiring administrative clerks. Perhaps that might be more realistic for someone like you.”
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