Chapter 4: The Morning Eviction
Dawn broke over the Harrington estate, casting a cold, gray light through the massive bay windows. I hadn’t slept a single wink. I had spent the entire night in Richard's study, poring over the leather-bound journal, mapping out the full extent of Victoria's crimes.
At exactly 7:45 AM, I walked out of the study and headed for the grand foyer.
The house was in a state of frantic upheaval. Maid staff stood awkwardly in the corners, unsure of what to do, while Victoria screamed orders at them.
"Careful with that vase, you idiot! It's Ming dynasty!" Victoria snapped at a young maid who was struggling to wrap a porcelain artifact in bubble wrap.
"Put it down, Maria," I said evenly as I stepped into the foyer.
The maid froze, looking between me and Victoria.
"Do as I say, Maria! I pay your salary!" Victoria shouted, her eyes wild and bloodshot. She hadn't slept either. Her hair was a frizzy mess, and she was wearing a silk bathrobe over her clothes.
"Actually," I corrected, stepping down the grand staircase, "the Harrington Estate pays her salary. Which means I do. Maria, put the vase back on the pedestal and go to the kitchen. You're off duty for the rest of the morning."
Maria practically ran out of the room.
I looked at the massive pile of luggage amassed by the front door. There were at least fifteen Louis Vuitton suitcases, three trunks, and several large cardboard boxes.
"Arthur," I called out.
The butler appeared instantly from the dining room, trailed by two large, burly men in dark suits—private security Mr. Whitmore had dispatched overnight.
"Open the bags," I ordered.
"You have no right!" Victoria screeched, throwing her body over the nearest trunk. "These are my personal belongings!"
"You were instructed to pack clothes and basic necessities," I replied, crossing my arms. "Given that you just tried to steal a Ming vase, you've lost the privilege of privacy. Check them, Arthur."
The security guards gently but firmly moved Victoria aside. Arthur unlocked the trunk.
It was a treasure trove of stolen assets. The family silver, expensive oil paintings cut directly from their frames and rolled up, and velvet boxes overflowing with diamond necklaces and watches that had belonged to Richard.
"I see," I said, shaking my head in disgust. "Arthur, empty everything. If it is not a piece of clothing, underwear, or a toothbrush, it stays."
"You little witch!" Madison wailed as she descended the stairs. She was dragging two massive suitcases of her own. "You can't do this! I have a trip to Paris next week! I need my things!"
"Your trust fund is frozen, Madison," I reminded her, watching as the security guards began systematically emptying their bags of anything valuable. "You aren't going to Paris. You're going to have to find a job."
"A job?!" Madison shrieked, as if I had just suggested she eat glass. "I am a Harrington!"
"No," I corrected coldly. "I am a Harrington. You are just someone who used the name."
By 8:15 AM, the fifteen suitcases had been reduced to three modest bags of clothing. Victoria stood by the front door, shaking with humiliated rage. The cool morning breeze swept through the open mahogany doors.
"You think you've won," Victoria hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper as she stepped close to me. "You think because you have a piece of paper, you can run a billion-dollar empire? The board of directors will eat you alive, Emily. They are my people. I appointed them. By sunset, they will declare you mentally unfit and vote me in as acting CEO. You are nothing but a stupid little girl."
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"We'll see," I smiled, stepping back. "Goodbye, Victoria. Don't come back."
Arthur closed the heavy doors firmly in their faces. The lock clicked. It was the loudest, most satisfying sound I had ever heard.
