Chapter 8 - Stripped of Feathers
*(Approx. 1500 words)*
While Arthur was being stripped of his empire, Evelyn Warren was facing a reckoning of a different kind.
Released on house arrest with a GPS ankle monitor strapped to her slender leg, Evelyn sat in her luxury penthouse apartment overlooking Lincoln Park. The apartment was a disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, expensive bottles of perfume were shattered against the bathroom mirror, and her phone was dead because she had thrown it against the wall in a fit of rage.
Her modeling contracts? Cancelled within hours.
Her brand partnerships? Terminated with morality clause penalties totaling four million dollars.
Her three million followers? Her account had been permanently suspended by federal court order.
A knock sounded at her door.
Evelyn rushed forward, tearing the door open. "Arthur? Julian?"
It wasn't her father. It was two federal marshals and a woman in a crisp gray suit.
"Evelyn Warren?" the woman asked, displaying a badge. "I’m Agent Miller from the asset forfeiture division. We have a seizure order for this property."
"What?" Evelyn shrieked. "This is my home! My father bought this for me for my twenty-first birthday!"
"Your father bought this penthouse using funds transferred from the Warren Logistics defense account," Agent Miller said coldly. "Those funds have been classified as proceeds of fraud. Everything in this apartment—including the furniture, the jewelry, and the wardrobe—is subject to immediate seizure."
Two moving contractors stepped past her, carrying large plastic bins and rolls of packing tape.
"Get your hands off my bags!" Evelyn screamed, lunging at a worker who was taking down her collection of designer handbags. "That’s Hermès! That’s worth sixty thousand dollars!"
A marshal caught her arm, firmly guiding her back. "Step aside, Miss Warren. You have fifteen minutes to gather one suitcase of personal clothing and essential hygiene items. Everything else remains."
Evelyn collapsed onto the floor, clutching her head, sobbing hysterically.
"Where am I supposed to go? I don't have any money! My bank cards are declined! Julian won't speak to me!"
"You have an allocated room at a transitional halfway house on the south side," the agent replied without an ounce of sympathy. "Courtesy of the state."
"The south side?" Evelyn’s voice turned into a shrill, horrified shriek. "I can't live there! I’m Evelyn Warren! I’m an influencer! I’m a socialite!"
"You're an indicted felon awaiting trial, Miss Warren," Agent Miller replied. "Your fifteen minutes start now."
Thirty minutes later, Evelyn stood on the sidewalk outside her building, holding a cheap canvas duffel bag containing three pairs of jeans and a sweater. Her emerald dress from the gala was gone. Her diamonds were gone. Her luxury sports car was currently being loaded onto a flatbed tow truck across the street.
A sleek black government sedan pulled up to the curb.
The tinted window rolled down.
Evelyn’s heart leaped into her throat. "Celeste!"
She rushed to the window, tears smearing her mascara, her hands grasping the door handle. "Celeste! Please! Tell them to stop! You're my sister! We share the same blood! You can't let them do this to me!"
Celeste sat in the back of the car, wearing her Navy service uniform, looking at Evelyn through the open window.
"You're right, Evelyn," Celeste said quietly. "We share the same blood. But when you ripped my dress open at the gala, you didn't see a sister. You saw a target to humiliate so you could feel superior for thirty seconds."
"I was wrong! I was stupid! I’ll apologize publicly! I’ll go on TV and tell everyone you’re a hero!" Evelyn sobbed, falling to her knees on the dirty sidewalk. "Please, Celeste... I don't know how to survive without money! I don't know how to work!"
Celeste looked down at her younger sister. There was no hatred in her eyes. Only a deep, unshakeable sorrow.
"Then you’re going to learn, Evelyn," Celeste said softly. "Just like I did."
The window rolled up smoothly, cutting off Evelyn’s desperate cries.
May you like
The black sedan accelerated away from the curb, leaving Evelyn Warren kneeling on the cold pavement, surrounded by exhaust fumes and the sound of a city that had already forgotten her name.
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