Chapter 4 - The Tables Turn
Sloane stood up from the gallery, her face flushed with anger and disbelief. “This is ridiculous! He’s a billionaire! You can’t just take his company and give it to her! We’re going to appeal—!”
“Sit down, young lady, or I will have you held in contempt of court and removed by the bailiff,” Judge Harrison warned, fixing a withering glare on her. He turned back to Miriam and me. “Mrs. Sterling, your legal team is instructed to begin immediate receivership proceedings. Court is adjourned.”
The gavel came down a second time.
Richard remained frozen in his chair, staring blankly at the polished mahogany table as if his entire reality had evaporated. The pristine suit, the perfect arrogance, the billionaire status—all of it had just been legally dismantled in less than twenty minutes because of his own hubris and greed.
I stood up slowly, adjusting my coat over my eight-month-pregnant belly. My son gave another reassuring kick, as if cheering for the victory. Miriam packed her files into her leather briefcase, offering me a quiet, triumphant nod.
As I walked down the aisle toward the exit, I passed right by Richard’s table. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his voice a broken whisper. “Caroline... please. We can talk about this. We have a child coming. We’re a family.”
I stopped, looking down at the man who had tried to throw me out into the cold with nothing.
“Don't look so worried, Richard,” I said softly, throwing his exact words right back in his face. “This will go much faster if you stop pretending you have any leverage.”
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Sloane rushed up behind him, her voice shrill with panic. “Richie, tell me she’s lying! Tell me you still have money! Tell me we’re still going to Paris!”
Richard didn't answer her. He just stared at his hands, finally realizing that the gold mine he had exploited had just turned into a federal prison of his own making. I turned my back on them both and pushed open the heavy oak doors, stepping out into the warm afternoon sunlight.
