Chapter 5 - THE COLLAPSE OF FIONA VANCE
"Sloan... darling... please!" Fiona stumbled backward, clutching her throat as her grand social illusion collapsed into dust right before the eyes of her peers. "This is a misunderstanding! We were joking! It was just family banter!"
She turned frantically to the crowd of guests. "Evelyn! Clara! You know how Julian loves to tease! Tell them! We are a loving family!"
Evelyn Croft set her champagne glass down on the edge of the table with a sharp clack. "Fiona," Evelyn said, her voice dripping with ice. "You locked your daughter-in-law in a dark room to force her to cook for you? You are sick."
"Evelyn, wait!" Fiona cried, reaching out, but Evelyn turned her back, marching straight out the front door, past the police officers. Within twenty seconds, the remaining fifty-nine socialites hurried out of the penthouse like rats escaping a sinking ship, whispering furiously into their phones.
The room was left completely empty, save for Julian, Fiona, myself, Darcy, the police, and the catering staff who were quietly observing the spectacle.
"Officers," Darcy said, stepping between Julian and the doorway. "Please enforce the order. Mr. Vance and his mother need to step away from the premises now."
"Wait!" Julian roared, dropping his papers and lunging toward me. "Sloan, you can't do this! I am your husband! Everything in this apartment—the furniture, the art, the cars—is marital property! Half of this belongs to me!"
Darcy let out a cold, sharp laugh, pulling a blue binder from her briefcase.
"Wrong again, Julian," Darcy said. "Three days before you married Sloan, you signed a comprehensive Prenuptial Agreement drafted by my firm. Clause 14 clearly states that any asset held within the Sloan Vance Revocable Living Trust remains 100% separate property in the event of divorce or domestic abuse."
Julian blinked, his jaw dropping. "I... I didn't read that clause..."
"Your greed blinded you," I said coldly. "You thought you were marrying a mid-level consultant making two hundred grand a year who would fund your lifestyle forever. You had no idea I own Vance Equity Partners. You had no idea my personal net worth is forty-eight million dollars."
Fiona’s eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. "Forty... forty-eight million?!" she whispered, her voice choking. "You... you had forty-eight million dollars... and you let me live on an allowance?!"
"You didn't deserve a single dime of it," I snapped. "And as of five minutes ago, your allowance is zero."
The lead police officer stepped up, taking Julian by the arm. "Mr. Vance, your ten minutes are up. Walk out under your own power or you will be arrested for criminal trespass and contempt of court."
Julian looked at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying mixture of shock, rage, and sudden, desperate regret. "Sloan... please... talk to me... we can fix this..."
"Get your hands off my son!" Fiona shrieked, trying to grab the officer, but the second officer restrained her arms behind her back. "You can't do this! I am Fiona Vance! I am a member of the Gold Coast Preservation Society!"
"Not anymore, ma'am," the officer said dryly, guiding her toward the door. "You can wait down in the lobby for a cab. But you aren't staying here."
As the officers escorted Julian and Fiona down the hallway, their desperate screams echoing off the elevator walls, I stood in the middle of my peaceful, quiet living room.
Darcy walked over, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "How do you feel?"
May you like
I looked at the sixty silver chafing dishes glowing under the chandelier, then pulled out my phone and dialed the local Chicago women's shelter.
"I feel free," I said, a genuine smile breaking across my face for the first time in five years. "And now... let's donate sixty Michelin-starred meals to people who actually deserve them."
