Chapter 3 - The Counter-Strike
By Wednesday, the panic had set in. My phone was blowing up with voicemails from Mark, fluctuating between sobbing apologies and vicious threats. I ignored them all.
Instead, I focused on the divorce proceedings. With Sterling’s team at my back, we filed for an emergency injunction. Since Mark had committed fraud by attempting to sell a house he didn't own, the judge easily granted me exclusive use of all joint assets pending the trial.
Desperate, Richard hired a notorious, sleazy defense attorney named Vance. Their strategy was dirty: they filed a motion to contest my grandfather’s will, claiming Arthur was suffering from dementia and that I had exercised "undue influence" over him in his final months.
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They leaked the story to the local Carmel social pages, trying to paint me as a gold-digging granddaughter who had manipulated a dying man.
I was furious. I wanted to scream. But Sterling just laughed. “Let them throw mud, Sarah. Mud washes off. We are going to drop a mountain on them.”
