Chapter 8 - Clearing the Foundation
Two weeks later, the moving vans arrived at the Paradise Valley estate.
We weren't packing up to leave. We were gutting the place.
Irene stood in the center of the grand master bedroom, directing a crew of contractors who were literally sledgehammering the drywall where the electronic safe had been embedded into the masonry.
“I want every brick of this wall replaced,” Irene said, her hand resting gently on her slightly protruding belly. She was glowing now, the bruises on her face completely faded, replaced by the soft, radiant warmth of a woman who knew she was finally safe. “I don’t ever want a trace of that safe—or what was inside it—left in this house.”
“Consider it done,” I said, walking up behind her and wrapping my arms gently around her waist, resting my hands over our baby. “The contractors are tearing out Margaret’s old guest suite tomorrow, too. We’re turning it into a dedicated nursery.”
She leaned back against my chest, letting out a contented sigh.
“Are you sure you want to stay in this house, Austin?” she asked softly. “With all the memories... everything that happened here?”
“This was never their home, Irene,” I said, kissing the side of her neck. “It was just a house they tried to occupy. Our home starts today. Everything before this was just the rough draft.”
The doorbell rang downstairs. A moment later, Marcus Vance appeared at the top of the grand staircase holding a thick, freshly bound portfolio.
“Interrupting the demolition derby?” Marcus smiled, holding up the paperwork.
“Always time for good news, Marcus. What do you have?” I asked, guiding Irene toward the sitting area where the furniture hadn't yet been wrapped in plastic.
“The final asset liquidation and settlement audit is complete,” Marcus said, sitting down and opening the binder. “Because Margaret and Carla were convicted of felony extortion and fraud, all of their personal liquid assets, vehicles, and secondary properties have been seized by the state and redirected toward court-ordered restitution and punitive damages awarded to Irene and your firm.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, your mother is officially broke,” Marcus grinned. “Her country club accounts are frozen, her credit lines are permanently closed, and the state has placed liens on every asset she tried to hide under dummy corporations. She’ll be spending the next seven to ten years in Perryville prison with zero access to outside wealth.”
Irene let out a quiet breath, her hand tightening over mine.
“And Carla?” she asked.
“Five years, plea deal for turning over some of Margaret’s secondary forgery records,” Marcus replied. “She’ll be out on parole in three if she behaves, but she’ll be starting her life from absolute zero with a felony record that will bar her from ever working in finance or corporate management.”
May you like
Marcus closed the binder and stood up, smoothing down his lapel.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to your demolition. Call my office if you need anything else, Austin. Otherwise... congratulations on your new design project.”
