Chapter 4 - The Sixty-Eight Million Dollar Pen
By Thursday morning, the rain in Boulder had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, sunny sky over the Rocky Mountain foothills.
Inside the glass-walled executive conference room of Reed & Associates in downtown Denver, I sat at a long walnut table.
I wore a dark navy silk suit, my hair pulled back tightly. Beside me sat my sister Evelyn, holding three-day-old Lily in her arms. Across the table sat Phoebe Reed and Arthur Vance—the sixty-two-year-old billionaire venture capitalist who had sought my estate for over a year.
Arthur looked at me through his gold-rimmed reading glasses, a respectful, impressed smile on his weathered face.
"I must admit, Jessi," Arthur said, holding a heavy fountain pen, "when Phoebe called me on Tuesday night saying you were ready to close in seventy-two hours, I thought it was a joke. A property of that magnitude usually takes six months of legal wrestling."
"I prefer efficiency, Arthur," I said calmly. "The title is clear. The property is unencumbered by any secondary liens. The deed is sitting right in front of you."
Arthur looked down at the closing documents. "And your husband? Phoebe informed my legal team that there was a minor domestic dispute regarding access."
"My former husband," I corrected smoothly, "has zero legal standing on the deed. My prenuptial agreement is attached to Schedule C of your closing packet. You will take possession of the estate completely unencumbered by any third-party claims."
Arthur nodded slowly, signing his name on the final signature line with dark blue ink. "Sixty-eight million dollars has been wired to your designated trust account. Wire confirmation should hit your primary bank in roughly three minutes."
My phone buzzed on the table.
I looked down. A notification from my wealth management app flashed green: WIRE RECEIVED: +$68,000,000.00 FROM VANCE CAPITAL TRUST.
Phoebe stamped the legal transfer papers, sliding a set of master electronic keycards across the table to Arthur.
"Congratulations, Arthur," Phoebe said. "As of this moment, 1400 Redwood Crest Drive officially belongs to the Vance Foundation."
Arthur took the keycards, standing up to shake my hand. "A pleasure doing business with you, Jessi. What are your plans for the property now?"
"I am directing my private moving team to clear my personal office archives and Lily's nursery items today," I said. "As for anything else left on the premises... it belongs to you."
Arthur chuckled dryly. "My contractor is demolishing the interior design tomorrow morning anyway to convert the main wing into a private research library. Anything left behind will go directly into the commercial disposal bins."
I smiled—a quiet, ruthless, terrifying smile. "That suits me perfectly."
While Arthur walked out with his security detail, Phoebe turned to me, pulling a secondary folder from her leather briefcase.
"Now for phase two, Jessi," Phoebe said, opening the folder. "I have drafted the formal divorce petition on the grounds of emotional cruelty, spousal abandonment, and financial conversion. Along with it, I’m filing an emergency restraining order based on the video footage of Luca locking you out after your surgery."
"Sign them," I said without a second of hesitation.
"What about his personal property inside the house?" Evelyn asked from her chair, gently rocking Lily. "Luca, Wendy, and Stephanie have three years' worth of luxury clothes, jewelry, and art sitting in that estate."
"They have until tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM," I said, standing up and smoothing my jacket. "Luca booked a commercial flight back to Denver late last night after his credit cards were frozen. He lands at Denver International Airport at seven o'clock tonight."
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"He's going to run straight to the house," Evelyn smirked.
"Let him run," I replied softly, taking my daughter gently into my arms. "I want him to stand on that porch and realize what ninety-six hours of arrogance costs."
