Chapter 4 - The Eviction of the Mistress
While Adrian was being escorted out of his own corporate headquarters by security, a different kind of justice was being delivered at the suburban mansion.
Celeste Monroe was lounging by the indoor pool, sipping a mimosa and browsing real estate websites for furniture to replace "Evelyn’s tacky taste." The heavy thud of the front door being forced open startled her.
"Adrian?" she called out, walking into the grand foyer.
She froze. Standing in the foyer were four county sheriff's deputies, a team of professional movers carrying large industrial crates, and a locksmith already dismantling the digital keypad on the front door.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Celeste shrieked, clutching her silk robe. "This house belongs to Monroe Holdings! Get these people out of here!"
"Monroe Holdings was dissolved at dawn, Miss Monroe," Deputy Miller said, holding up a certified court order. "The transfer of this property from Adrian Vale was ruled an illegal concealment of marital assets during an active divorce proceeding. The title has been restored to Evelyn Sterling. You have fifteen minutes to vacate the premises."
"Fifteen minutes?! My clothes! My bags!" Celeste screamed, rushing toward the kitchen island to grab her black Birkin.
"Step back from the bag, ma'am," the deputy said, blocking her path.
Out from the dining room walked Marcus Vance, the Sterling family’s chief legal counsel. He adjusted his watch, looking at Celeste with absolute disdain. "The black Birkin bag, serial number 894-B, was purchased using a corporate credit card belonging to Vale Logistics under the guise of an 'operational supply expense.' It is currently listed as stolen corporate property in the federal embezzlement indictment filed against Adrian Vale an hour ago. It stays here."
Celeste’s face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly panic. "Adrian promised me! He said his wife was a nobody! He said she had no one!"
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"His wife has the entire Sterling empire behind her, Miss Monroe," Marcus said coldly. "And you have twelve minutes left before you're arrested for trespassing. I suggest you start walking."
Ten minutes later, the neighbors in the exclusive subdivision stood on their lawns, watching in fascination as Celeste Monroe was escorted down the driveway in her slippers, carrying her designer shoes in a clear plastic trash bag, her flawless reputation utterly destroyed in a matter of seconds.
