Chapter 6 - The Mother's Insolence
At two o'clock that afternoon, the armored Maybach pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the Vale Manor in Lake Forest—the sprawling, sixty-room estate where Adrian's mother, Victoria Vale, resided.
Victoria Vale was a woman who had spent forty years cultivating an image of absolute, untouchable high-society royalty. She was the president of the Chicago Arts Society, the chairwoman of the Opera Guild, and a woman who treated service staff, waiters, and junior family members with absolute, freezing contempt.
For three years, Victoria had taken subtle, cruel pleasure in reminding me of my "humble origins." At family dinners, she would purposefully assign me to sit at the far end of the table near the kitchen doors. She would make snide comments about my simple jewelry, mock my choice of clothing, and regularly remind Adrian in front of guests that he had "married far beneath the family line."
Today, the wrought-iron gates were wide open.
Two large, yellow moving trucks were parked in the circular driveway, and six men in navy coveralls were busy hauling antique furniture, oil paintings, and crystal chandeliers out of the front doors.
Victoria Vale stood on the grand marble porch, wearing a floor-length mink coat despite the mild autumn weather, screaming hysterically at the movers.
"Stop this immediately!" Victoria shrieked, waving her diamond-encrusted cane in the air. "Do you have any idea who I am?! I am Victoria Vale! This estate has been in my family for three generations! Call the police! Someone call the Chief of Police!"
The rear door of the Maybach opened, and I stepped out onto the gravel driveway.
Victoria turned her head, her sharp, aging face twisting into a mask of pure, poisonous rage as she saw me walking toward the porch.
"You!" Victoria spat, marching down the marble steps toward me, her cane clicking sharply against the stone. "You treacherous, ungrateful little gutter rat! Look at what you've done to my son! He’s sitting in a police precinct because of your lies! You ruined his company! You ruined our family!"
She raised her diamond-encrusted cane into the air, bringing it back as if to strike me across the face.
Before the cane could swing forward, two of my father’s security guards stepped up smoothly, one of them catching the heavy silver cane mid-air with a single hand, holding it completely still.
Victoria gasped, trying frantically to yank her cane back, but the guard didn't budge an inch.
I walked up the steps until I was standing inches away from her, looking down into her pale, terrified face.
"Your son didn't get arrested because of my lies, Victoria," I said, my voice smooth and icy cold. "He got arrested because he whipped my back until I bled on his foyer floor, while his mistress watched."
Victoria flinched slightly, a momentary flicker of shock crossing her eyes, but her ingrained arrogance quickly reasserted itself. "He is a Vale! He was disciplining his wife! In our social tier, family matters are handled privately! You brought common police into our private affairs! You humiliated us!"
"Your social tier?" I repeated softly, letting out a small, quiet laugh that made Victoria’s skin crawl. "Victoria, you’ve spent three years looking down your nose at me, calling me a nobody, treating me like a charity case."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a certified deed of ownership, unfolding it slowly in front of her face.
"This estate was mortgaged five years ago to cover your late husband's massive gambling debts in Macau," I said calmly. "Adrian has been secretly using Vale Enterprises credit lines to pay the two-hundred-thousand-dollar monthly interest payments just to keep you from being evicted."
I pointed to the legal stamp at the bottom of the document.
"Vane Global purchased the primary mortgage holder thirty minutes ago," I continued. "We foreclosed on the property at noon. You have precisely fifteen minutes to take your personal clothing and leave this estate."
May you like
Victoria stared at the document, her hands shaking so violently she dropped her leather handbag onto the gravel. "No... no, you can't do this! This is my home! Where am I supposed to go?!"
"I suggest you call your friends at the Opera Guild," I said smoothly, stepping past her toward the front door. "Perhaps one of them will let you sleep in their guest house. If you ask nicely... like a good little charity case."
