Chapter 9 - The Empty House
At 2:00 AM, the rain finally stopped, leaving the streets slick and black under the city lights.
A taxi pulled up to the locked iron gates of the 412 Birch Street estate.
Weston and Claudia stepped out into the damp air. Both of their phones were buzzing violently—dozens of notifications from news outlets, bank representatives, and board members announcing the immediate collapse of Prescott Logistics stock.
Weston ran to the security keypad beside the gate and punched in his six-digit code.
A harsh red light flashed. ACCESS DENIED.
“No, no, no!” Weston panicked, punching the numbers again frantically. “Access denied? It’s my house!”
He grabbed the intercom button and slammed his fist against it. “Open the gate! It’s Weston! Open the gate right now!”
After a moment, the speaker crackled. Julian’s calm voice came through.
“Good evening, Mr. Prescott.”
“Julian! Open this damn gate!” Weston screamed. “My mother needs her medicine! All my clothes are in there!”
“Your personal items have been packed into four cardboard boxes and left outside the service gate,” Julian replied dryly. “The locks have been changed, the security codes cleared, and the property is now under twenty-four-hour armed guard by Sterling Estate Management.”
“You can’t do this!” Claudia shrieked into the speaker. “I’m an old woman! Where are we supposed to go?”
“I suggest a hotel, Mrs. Prescott,” Julian said smoothly. “Though considering Mr. Prescott’s accounts were frozen by Vanguard’s legal team an hour ago, you may want to check into a motel that accepts cash.”
The speaker clicked off.
Weston dropped his hands, staring at the massive iron gates of the estate he had bragged about owning just hours prior.
Beside the gate, stacked neatly on the damp pavement, were four cheap cardboard boxes containing his suits and Claudia’s shoes.
May you like
Weston collapsed onto the wet curb, head in his hands, crying uncontrollably as the cold night air soaked through his charcoal tuxedo.
Everything he had was gone. And he had destroyed it all himself.
