Chapter 8 - Clearing Out the Mansion
Later that afternoon, a team of professional movers accompanied by two armed private security guards arrived at the grand estate on Ocean Drive.
Khloe Baxter was lounging by the indoor pool, wearing a designer silk robe and sipping champagne, when the heavy front doors were unlocked from the outside using a master administrative key card.
She bolted upright, gasping in outrage as several strangers marched into the foyer carrying cardboard boxes.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Khloe shrieked, running into the hallway. “Who let you in?! Do you know who I am?! I am the lady of this house! Get out before I call Bradley!”
I stepped through the front doors, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. I wore my tailored camel trench coat, my hair framing my face in sleek, polished waves.
Khloe froze midway down the stairs, her jaw dropping open in utter disbelief.
“Y-You?” Khloe stammered, pointing a manicured finger at me. “What are you doing back here? Brad threw you out! This isn't your house anymore!”
“Actually, Khloe, it never stopped being my house,” I said calmly, walking past her toward the living room.
“Are you out of your mind? Brad is the CEO of Lawson Dynamics! He owns everything!” Khloe screamed hysterically, following me into the parlor. “When he gets back from the office, he’s going to have you arrested for trespassing!”
At that exact moment, the front door swung open again.
Bradley Lawson stumbled into the foyer. He wasn’t wearing his custom Milanese blazer anymore. His tie was ripped loose, his hair was disheveled, and he was clutching a taped cardboard box filled with a few picture frames, a coffee mug, and his personal planner.
Behind him stood two security guards, their arms crossed.
Khloe’s face lit up with desperate relief. “Brad! Thank goodness! Call the police! Your crazy ex-wife broke into the house and brought a bunch of strangers with her! Tell her to get out!”
Bradley stared at Khloe with dead, hollow eyes. He looked like a man who had aged ten years in a single afternoon.
“Khloe...” Bradley croaked, his voice trembling. “Pack your things.”
“What?” Khloe blinked, laughing nervously. “What are you talking about?”
“Pack your things right now,” Bradley screamed, his voice cracking into a desperate sob as he dropped his cardboard box onto the floor. “We don’t have a house! We don’t have any money! She owns everything! She owns the company! She owns the mansion! We are ruined!”
Khloe stared at Bradley in sheer, unadulterated horror. The color drained completely from her face. The champagne glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble floor—the exact same sound my grandmother’s crystal glass had made when she disrespectfully tossed it aside three nights ago.
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“You... you lied to me,” Khloe whispered, stepping away from him as if he carried a plague. “You told me you were a billionaire. You told me you controlled everything.”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” Bradley sobbed, collapsing onto the floor with his head in his hands.
