Chapter 3 - The Untouchable House
The chaos in the St. Jude Memorial corridor was captured from three different angles by hidden security cameras and a frantic freelance photographer Savannah had secretly tipped off earlier in the morning—believing she was about to star in the dramatic social media expose of a disgraced billionaire’s wife.
Instead, the footage of Preston Sterling being slapped in cuffs by federal marshals while sobbing hysterically on his knees hit the internet by noon.
By 2:00 PM, the stock price of Sterling Real Estate Development had plummeted twenty-eight percent.
I sat comfortably in the penthouse-level VIP suite overlooking Central Park. The room was larger than our entire suburban house, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows, imported silk furnishings, and a private medical staff attending to my every need. Dr. Vance had personally checked my vitals twice, confirming that despite the fall near the stairs, my baby girl—whom I affectionately called my little fighter—was completely unharmed, her heartbeat strong and steady.
A soft knock rapped against the heavy mahogany door of the suite.
“Come in,” I called out, sipping a cup of warm chamomile tea.
The door swung open, and my father walked in.
Arthur Sterling looked every bit the billionaire tycoon he was—tailored bespoke suit, silver hair brushed back, eyes sharp as steel—yet the moment he looked at me, all the corporate armor melted away. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he crossed the room in three strides and pulled me into a fierce, protective embrace.
“My God, Becky,” my father choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “When Marcus called me from the lobby... I should have pulled you out of that marriage two years ago. I was a fool to let you play house with a parasite.”
I rested my head against his shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering breath that felt like releasing a ton of lead from my chest. “You wanted me to learn how to live in the real world, Dad. And I did. I learned that some monsters wear expensive suits and smile while they poison your water.”
My father pulled back, his hands resting gently on my shoulders, his gaze hardening into granite. “Well, the water supply has just been cut off. The Sterling family empire is finished, Becky. Every loan they took out using our shell corporations has been recalled. Their primary assets are being seized by the federal government as we speak. By tomorrow morning, Arthur Sterling Sr.—Preston’s pathetic excuse for a father—won't even be able to afford a cup of coffee.”
“And Savannah?” I asked, a cool, detached curiosity in my tone.
A sharp, humorless smile touched my father’s lips. “Oh, Miss Montgomery is currently locked in a holding room downstairs. It turns out she was moonlighting as an uncertified financial analyst while embezzling minor funds from Preston’s side accounts to fund her designer wardrobe. Marcus has already filed accessory charges against her. She’s looking at five to ten years in a federal penitentiary.”
I nodded slowly, looking down at my swollen belly. My baby gave a gentle, reassuring kick against my palm.
“Good,” I whispered. “They wanted to treat me like an incubator and throw me away when my time was up. Now, they get to watch what happens when an empire fights back.”
“Speaking of fighting back,” my father said, walking over to the mahogany desk and picking up a sleek tablet. He swiped through a few documents before turning the screen toward me. “Preston’s legal team is already begging for a plea deal. They want to surrender all remaining assets, sign over full custody of the child to you with zero visitation rights, and file an immediate, uncontested divorce.”
I looked at the digital document. Every single term was heavily weighted in my favor. Preston would leave this marriage with the clothes on his back and a criminal record that would follow him to his grave.
May you like
“Sign it?” my father asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not yet,” I replied, a slow, calculating smile curving my lips. “Let him sweat for another twenty-four hours in a holding cell. Let him realize what it feels like to have no control, no money, and no safety net. Exactly what he tried to do to me.”
