He Struck His Wife For Refusing To Serve His Mistress—Then Learned Who Owned The Entire Empire

"Where are you going, Vanessa?" Grant snapped, spinning around with wild eyes.

Vanessa paused near the doorway, adjusting the collar of her silver dress.

"I have an apartment in Tribeca to check on," she said smoothly, her voice devoid of the warm affection she had displayed an hour earlier.

"You're walking out right now?" Grant asked, stepping toward her with his hands outstretched. "After everything I gave you? I put you in that chair!"

"You put me in someone else's chair, Grant," Vanessa countered coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. "And judging by that phone call, you don't even own the chair you're standing on."

"Vanessa, I still have millions in off-shore holdings!" Grant lied desperately, his pride fraying at the seams. "We can fight this in court! I have influence in this city!"

"Influence requires capital, Grant," Vanessa said, pressing the elevator call button in the foyer. "And I don't partner with men who hit their wives and lose their fortunes before dessert."

The elevator doors chimed and opened.

Two burly men in charcoal tactical suits stepped out, wearing the crest of Vale Security on their lapels.

Behind them stood Marcus, Eleanor’s long-time head of personal protection.

Marcus glanced at Vanessa, then stepped past her without a word, his cold gaze locking directly onto Grant.

"Mr. Mercer," Marcus said in a deep, gravelly voice. "Your occupancy permit for Unit 4200 has been officially revoked by the deed holder."

Judith rushed forward, waving her arms hysterically.

"This is outrageous! You cannot throw an elderly woman out onto the street in the middle of November!"

"A town car is waiting downstairs to take you to a hotel in Queens, Mrs. Mercer," Marcus replied without shifting his posture. "Paid for two nights by Ms. Vale's charity foundation. After that, you are on your own."

"Queens?" Judith shrieked, clutching her chest. "I cannot stay in Queens!"

Dean grabbed Grant's sleeve, his knuckles white with panic.

"Grant, do something! Call our uncle! Call the governor! We paid for his campaign last spring!"

"Ms. Vale paid for the campaign, Dean," Marcus corrected evenly, signaling to his men. "The governor sent his formal apologies fifteen minutes ago. He has already returned the contribution to the Vale Foundation."

Grant watched as the security guards began tagging every piece of furniture, artwork, and electronics with bright orange barcode stickers.

One of the guards walked up to Vanessa, holding out an open evidence tray.

"The Cartier bracelet, Ms. Cole," the guard said flatly. "Purchased with corporate funds under False Asset Voucher 409. Hand it over, or the officers waiting in the lobby will charge you with possession of stolen property."

Vanessa’s lips curled in silent fury.