Chapter 8 - The Falling Dominos
Wednesday morning brought the final collapse of Roman’s empire.
The Wall Street Journal ran a front-page article in their real estate section: "Leister Development Halts All Flagship Projects Amid Mass Copyright Litigation and Corporate Fraud Investigation."
By noon, Leister Development stock had plunged by 74%. The board of directors held an emergency vote, stripping Roman of his CEO title, revoking his stock options, and authorizing a full civil lawsuit against both Roman and Aurora Reese to recover the stolen corporate funds.
Aurora, desperate to avoid prison time, cut a deal with the state prosecutor. She handed over every text message, email, and offshore bank record documenting Roman’s plan to siphon millions from the company into private accounts in the Cayman Islands.
I watched the news from my studio in Belle Meade. The house no longer smelled of dust; it smelled of fresh white oak, polished limestone, and freedom.
My contractor, Clara, walked up the stairs carrying a set of new blueprints.
"Mrs. Vance?" she asked softly.
I turned around, feeling a wave of warmth at the sound of my maiden name. "Yes, Clara?"
"The master suite renovation is officially finished," Clara smiled, handing me a set of keys. "The marble tub is installed, the oak floor is sealed, and the courtyard view is entirely yours."
I walked down to the master bedroom.
Where dusty studs and broken drywall had stood five days ago, there was now a masterpiece of minimalist, elegant design. A massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall looked out over my lush garden. Sunlight poured across the smooth white-oak floors, illuminating the space with bright, clean warmth.
There was no trace of Roman left in this house. No trace of his lies, his ego, or his slate-gray suits.
My phone rang. It was my attorney.
"Eleanor," Harrison said. "Roman’s lawyers just called. He’s offering a complete settlement. He gives up all claims to the joint trust, surrenders all rights to the Leister Development name, and agrees to a full divorce decree without contesting a single clause."
"What does he want in exchange?" I asked.
"He wants you to drop the copyright injunction so the remaining board can restructure the company and keep it from total bankruptcy."
I looked out at my garden, feeling the heavy burden that I had carried for six years lift off my shoulders once and for all.
"Tell them I will drop the injunction against Leister Development," I said. "On one condition."
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"Name it."
"The company rebrands under new management. And Roman Leister is permanently banned from stepping foot on any property using my design patents ever again."
