Chapter 4 - The Eviction
Panic erupted in the loft like a bomb going off.
“You can’t do this!” Jolene screamed, rushing toward me with her hands clawing the air like a desperate cat. “You cannot throw your husband and his family out on the street! We have legal rights! We are married!”
Before she could reach me, two burly Tribeca building security guards in sharp black uniforms stepped out of the private elevator, their faces deadpan and professional. They immediately positioned themselves between Jolene and me, blocking her advance.
“Ma’am, step back from the resident,” the lead guard instructed firmly, resting his hand on his utility belt.
“Do you know who I am?!” Jolene shrieked, her face turning crimson. “I am the mother-in-law of the owner of this company! You can’t touch me!”
“We don't care who you are, ma’am,” the guard replied coldly. “Ms. Miller is the sole deed holder of this property, and she has requested your immediate removal. Let’s go. Pack your things.”
Vance scrambled up from the floor, clutching the ruined, wet paperwork to his chest like a shield, his face twisted in desperate rage.
“Sloan, you’re making a massive mistake!” Vance shouted over the chaos, pointing a trembling finger at me as the guards closed in on him. “You think you’re so untouchable in this big, empty apartment! Without me, you’re just a cold, miserable woman obsessed with work! No one will ever truly love you!”
I didn’t flinch, nor did I grant his childish tantrum the satisfaction of a response. I simply watched him with a blank, indifferent stare. That indifference hurt him far more than any insult could have. To Vance, my anger was proof that he still mattered; my absolute apathy proved he was nothing more than an unpleasant memory.
“Get him out of my sight,” I told the guards.
Tinsley was already in hysterics, screaming obscenities as she grabbed a designer handbag off the entryway bench and threw a tantrum on her way to the elevator. Jolene was dragged away kicking and screaming, hurling curses about karma and lawsuits that would never hold up in a court of law.
Vance lingered for a second at the elevator doors, his eyes filled with a mixture of hatred, humiliation, and lingering disbelief.
“You’ll regret this, Sloan,” he hissed through clenched teeth as the elevator doors slid shut, cutting off his miserable voice.
The heavy steel doors closed with a soft ding.
Silence descended upon the Tribeca loft once more.
The air smelled faintly of cheap soap and wet leather, but the suffocating weight that had oppressed my home for the past two years was completely gone. I walked slowly across the polished oak floor, picked up the empty plastic basin, and tossed it straight into the trash can.
I walked over to the wall of windows and looked out at the glittering Manhattan skyline as dusk began to settle over the city. The lights of the financial district twinkled in the distance—a reminder of the empire I had built entirely on my own terms.
They thought they could break me. They thought marriage was a cage where I would quietly submit to their mediocrity. Instead, they had provided me with the catalyst I needed to cut out the rot once and for all.
May you like
My phone buzzed on the kitchen island. I picked it up and saw an alert from my corporate legal team. The asset freeze on Vance’s secret offshore accounts had been successfully executed. Every single cent he had stolen was locked down, pending criminal indictment for corporate fraud and embezzlement.
I smiled to myself, unlocked the balcony door, and stepped out into the cool evening breeze. The war wasn't completely over—Vance was vindictive enough to try and drag out a messy divorce—but for the first time in years, I felt completely, exhilaratingly free.
