Chapter 3 - The Economic Execution
The restaurant went silent. Beatrice’s face drained of color, her haughty demeanor cracking like a cheap mask. "You can't do this," she stammered. "We have contracts! We have status!"
"You had status," Victor corrected her, his voice projecting through the room. "You had a life built on vanity and theft. My investigators have been busy all night."
He walked closer, his presence suffocating. "Julian, the firm fired you at 9:00 AM this morning for the theft of client funds. The police are on their way to the lobby to discuss those discrepancies."
Julian stumbled back, hitting a table. "Mother... tell him it's a mistake."
Beatrice lunged at Victor, her nails raking the air. "You wretched man! I will ruin you! I know people—"
"You know debt collectors," Victor interrupted. "Your line of credit is gone. Your property is under lien. And your access to the condo you stole from your previous victims? That, too, is being reclaimed."
He turned to the room, where the socialites Beatrice had been trying to impress were now recording the scene with their phones.
"This woman," Victor pointed at Beatrice, "is a predator. She beat my daughter for property. She broke the law, and now, the law is here."
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Two police officers appeared at the entrance. They weren't there for a brunch reservation. They were there for Julian.
The chaos that followed was beautiful. Beatrice screamed, clawing at her own hair, as the reality of her total social and financial annihilation set in. She had tried to trade my daughter for a townhouse; she had lost her son, her money, and her reputation in the span of thirty minutes.
