Chapter 4 - THE STRIPPING OF THE ASSETS
The next morning, at 8:00 AM, Alejandro woke up in the master bedroom of the Gold Coast penthouse. He hadn't slept a wink. He had spent the entire night pacing the floor, trying to convince himself that Camila was simply throwing an emotional post-surgery tantrum that would blow over once her medications wore off.
Claudia was in the kitchen, frantically brewing espresso while little Liam cried in his playpen.
“You need to go to her office,” Claudia insisted, her hair messy, her eyes filled with dark circles. “If she’s revoking credit cards, she might mess with your advisory firm’s funding!”
“She can’t touch my firm,” Alejandro snapped, trying to project a confidence he didn't feel. “Vance Advisory Group is my company.”
“With her capital!” Claudia shouted back. “Alejandro, my credit cards aren't working either! The card you gave me for the baby’s nanny was declined this morning!”
Before Alejandro could answer, the penthouse doorbell chimed.
Alejandro rushed to the front foyer, assuming it was a courier from the hospital delivering an apology letter or a legal clarification.
He pulled open the heavy mahogany door.
Standing in the hallway were two men in dark gray suits. One was Marcus Thorne, my father’s ruthless head legal counsel. Beside him stood a uniformed Cook County Sheriff’s deputy.
“Alejandro,” Marcus Thorne said smoothly, resting an arm on his leather briefcase. “Good morning.”
“Marcus? What the hell is going on?” Alejandro demanded. “Why is there a sheriff at my door?”
Marcus pulled a manila folder from his briefcase and handed a document to Alejandro.
“This is an legal Notice to Quit and Eviction Order for Penthouse A, 1400 Lake Shore Drive,” Marcus announced calmly. “The property is owned exclusively by Vance Real Estate Holdings LLC. As of 6:00 AM today, your residential occupancy permit has been revoked by the sole officer of the LLC, Ms. Camila Vance.”
Alejandro’s mouth fell open. “This is my home! We’ve lived here for seven years!”
“Correction: Ms. Vance has lived here for seven years,” Marcus countered, stepping forward into the doorway. “You were a permitted guest. You have thirty days to vacate under Illinois tenant law. However, all amenities, concierge services, private elevator access codes, and garage parking spaces associated with this unit have been canceled as of this minute.”
“You can’t do this!” Alejandro yelled, his voice cracking. “I have a signed divorce settlement! She waived her claims!”
Marcus Thorne actually chuckled—a dry, terrifying sound.
“Mr. Vance, I suggest you read the settlement agreement your own strip-mall divorce attorney drafted. You had Camila sign a full mutual waiver of all non-marital assets and independent trusts. The Vance Holdings entity was established in 1994 by Marcus Vance, eleven years before you met her. It is an independent trust asset. By signing that agreement, you explicitly renounced any right to claim residency or equity in this building.”
Alejandro turned pale. The very paper he had shoved in my face to lock me out had just locked him out instead.
“Also,” Marcus added, pulling a small silver key from his pocket, “the 2024 Porsche 911 Turbo parked in space B-12 downstairs is registered under Vance Corporate Fleet. The keys are being recovered today.”
“That’s my car!” Alejandro shouted.
“It was leased by the trust, Mr. Vance. And since you are no longer an employee or guest advisor of Vance Commercial Real Estate—a termination letter was emailed to you twenty minutes ago—you no longer have fleet privileges.”
The sheriff stepped forward, his hand resting casually on his belt. “Sir, hand over the vehicle keys, or I will be forced to assist Mr. Thorne in executing a recovery order.”
Inside the apartment, Claudia began to scream in panic as she realized what was happening.
Alejandro stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, forced to reach into his pocket and place the keys to his beloved sports car into Marcus Thorne’s waiting palm.
“Tell Camila...” Alejandro stammered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror, “Tell Camila I will sue her for everything she has!”
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Marcus Thorne smiled warmly. “Mr. Vance, my billable rate is $950 an hour. Camila’s trust retains three entire law firms on retainer. You currently have approximately $4,200 in your personal checking account. I welcome you to try.”
With that, Marcus turned, nodded to the deputy, and walked down the hallway toward the elevator, leaving Alejandro standing in the doorway of a home he no longer owned, deprived of his car, his credit cards, and his pride.
