Chapter 6 - Chapter 6 - THE COLD ESCAPE
The crisp midnight air hit my face like a refreshing wave, instantly clearing the lingering fog of the 104-degree fever that had burned inside me for hours. Behind me, the grand foyer of the estate echoed with chaotic shrieks—Chloe demanding financial support for her baby, Patricia wailing about her ruined social standing, and Ethan frantically begging a blank wall for mercy. I didn't look back. I rolled my battered leather suitcase down the front steps, the wheels clicking rhythmically against the stone pathway.
A sleek black town car was parked idling near the curb, its headlights cutting amber paths through the autumn fog. The rear door clicked open instantly, and my longtime personal attorney and dearest friend, Marcus, stepped out onto the pavement. He held a heavy wool trench coat, draped it over my shoulders with practiced care, and looked me up and down with critical eyes.
"You look like you just survived a war zone, Clara," Marcus said softly, his voice a steady anchor against the swirling madness inside the house. "Your skin is flushed, and you're shaking. Let's get you straight to the private clinic downtown. Dr. Hayes is already waiting in his office."
"I'm fine, Marcus," I replied, my voice raspy as I slid into the warm leather interior of the car. "The adrenaline is doing a better job than any antibiotic. Did you see the look on Ethan's face when the federal marshals handed him the lien papers?"
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Marcus settled into the seat beside me as the driver pulled smoothly away from the curb, leaving the glittering prison of South Hill behind. A rare, triumphant smile touched the corners of my attorney's mouth. "I saw it all through the front window feed. Absolute masterpiece, Clara. You walked into that house sick as a dog and walked out owning the entire board, while your ex-husband inherited a million-dollar federal fraud investigation, an eviction notice, and a very angry mistress."
I leaned my head back against the plush headrest, watching the streetlights blur into golden streaks outside the window. "He thought he could throw me out like trash before midnight," I whispered, closing my eyes as exhaustion finally began to tug at my limbs. "He forgot that the trash owned the deed."
