Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House of Ashford
The ballroom erupted into chaos as Julian Vance signaled the hotel’s head of private security. Four burly, uniformed security guards marched forward, their heavy boots thudding across the polished floor. Two of them stepped directly between Nathaniel and me, cutting off his desperate attempts to crawl closer.
""Mr. Ashford, you are required to vacate the premises immediately,"" the head of security stated flatly. ""Your executive credentials have been deactivated in the hotel management system. The ballroom rental was billed to Ashford Global’s corporate card, which has just been canceled by order of majority ownership.""
Nathaniel stumbled backward, knocking over a champagne tower. Crystal flutes crashed onto the floor, spraying expensive vintage liquor over Margaret’s custom satin dress. Margaret shrieked, jumping back and slipping in the puddle, landing hard on her hands and knees. The irony was so sharp it almost took my breath away: the woman who had demanded I kneel on the cold marble floor was now scrambling on all fours, covered in spilled alcohol, while high-society photographers relentlessly flashed their cameras.
""Stop taking pictures!"" Margaret wailed, covering her face with her diamond-covered hands. ""Nathaniel, tell them to stop! Call the police! We are the Ashfords!""
""Nobody cares about the Ashfords anymore, Margaret,"" an elderly heiress near the front whispered loud enough for the entire room to hear. ""Turns out they were living on Charles Bennett's charity the entire time.""
Vanessa backed away from Nathaniel as if he were carrying a contagious disease. She grabbed her designer clutch from the table and turned toward the exit. ""Vanessa! Wait!"" Nathaniel cried out, lunging after her. ""Where are you going? We have a baby on the way! We're partners!""
Vanessa stopped and turned, her pretty face twisted into a mask of pure contempt. ""A baby? Nathaniel, you idiot, I’m not pregnant! I paid a clinic five hundred bucks to fake a sonogram printout so you’d finally divorce your plain-Jane wife and put my name on the Lake Shore penthouse! But now you don't even have a dime! You think I’m going to stay with an unemployed, bankrupt loser? Lose my number!""
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Nathaniel stared at her, completely shattered, the double betrayal striking him like a physical blow. The three hundred guests he had invited to witness my humiliation were now laughing openly at his expense. Prominent investors pulled out their phones, contacting their brokers on the spot to dump their personal Ashford stock before Monday’s opening bell.
""Miss Bennett,"" Samuel said quietly, stepping to my side and offering me his arm. ""Your grandfather left one more urgent item in his safe deposit box. It concerns the private residence in Gold Coast where you and Nathaniel have been living. We should proceed to the private executive lounge upstairs to review it.""
I took Samuel’s arm, holding my head high. As we began walking toward the private elevator, Nathaniel dragged himself to his feet, lunging past the security guards to grab my wrist. ""Evelyn! You can’t leave me with nothing! The mansion is in my name! My father gave it to me! You can take the company, but you can’t throw me out of my own home!""
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Samuel paused, turning back with a cold, pitying smile. ""Mr. Ashford, did you ever read the land deed for the Gold Coast estate? It was purchased in 1988 under the name of 'The Charles Bennett Trust Holdings.' Arthur Ashford merely signed the tenant lease. The residence belongs one hundred percent to Evelyn Bennett. By midnight tonight, the private security locks will be changed. Miss Bennett has graciously agreed to leave your personal clothing in garbage bags on the curb.""
Nathaniel collapsed onto a banquet chair, burying his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably as the security guards dragged him and his hysterical mother out through the service exit.
