Chapter 9 - The Reckoning of the Estate
Three days after the gala, a moving van parked in the circular driveway of the Whitmore Lutherville estate.
Because of the default covenants on the personal bridge loans Charles had taken out behind the board's back—loans that Dominic’s holding company had quietly purchased and called due—the sprawling mansion and all its contents were now subject to immediate liquidation.
I stood on the manicured front lawn, watching men in blue overalls carry antique mahogany furniture and framed oil paintings out the front doors.
Madison, Lauren, and Emily were sitting on the edge of the stone fountain, clutching designer handbags that were about to be repossessed, sobbing openly into their manicured hands. Rebecca was screaming furiously at a bank representative near the front steps, demanding to speak to someone in charge, only to be handed a yellow legal notice and told to vacate the premises by sundown.
A sleek black town car pulled up beside me. The rear door opened, and Dominic stepped out.
He walked up beside me, hands tucked into his tailored trousers, watching the chaotic scene with an expression of mild, clinical detachment.
“They’re going to an apartment downtown,” I murmured, my voice surprisingly devoid of triumph, feeling only a strange, quiet closure. “A modest three-bedroom rental. Rebecca is threatening to sue the state bar association.”
“Let them sue,” Dominic said quietly. “They’ll learn what it’s like to live in the real world. Something your father actively insulated them from.”
He turned his head to look at me, the harsh afternoon sunlight catching the sharp planes of his face.
“Are you alright, Claire?”
I looked down at my hands—the same hands that had spent a decade massaging cramped fingers after hours of auditing customs codes by the dim light of a desk lamp. Now, those same hands held the controlling equity of the largest logistics network on the East Coast.
“I used to think that one day, my father would look at me and say job well done,” I confessed softly, the confession slipping out before I could stop it. “I thought if I worked hard enough, if I fixed enough of his mistakes, I’d finally earn a place at the family table.”
Dominic reached out, his warm fingers gently closing over my hand, breaking my lifelong habit of pressing my thumb against my index finger.
May you like
“You were sitting at the wrong table, Claire,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a register that made my heart skip a beat. “Some people build empires to keep people out. Others build them to share them with the only person strong enough to hold them up.”
I turned and looked up into his gray eyes, realizing in that exact moment that the shadows were entirely gone, replaced by a horizon that stretched out as far as we wanted to sail.
