Chapter 10 - THE SIEGE OF GREENWICH
At 6:00 AM, a heavy, suffocating fog hung low over the rolling green hills of Greenwich, Connecticut.
A convoy of three black armored SUVs pulled up to the tall wrought-iron gates of the Sterling Estate. The gates swung open automatically, allowing the heavy vehicles to glide up the winding cobblestone driveway, framed by towering oak trees and pristine, manicured lawns.
Stepping out of the lead vehicle was Eleanor Vance.
She was no longer wearing the light-blue maid uniform. Marcus Thorne had arranged for her to change into a sharp, navy-blue wool coat, dark trousers, and polished leather boots. Her blonde hair was tied back cleanly, her face pale, exhausted, but marked by a terrifying, absolute clarity of purpose.
Standing on the grand stone porch of the brick mansion was Evelyn Vance—Jonathan Vance’s sister and head of security for the Vance conglomerate. Surrounding the porch were four armed guards dressed in dark tactical windbreakers.
"Miss Vance!" Evelyn shouted as Eleanor approached the stone steps, flanked by four of Julian’s private security detail. "You are trespassing on private corporate property! This estate is under a court-ordered freeze pending the Vance-Sterling litigation!"
Eleanor didn't slow her pace. She marched up the stone steps, her leather boots striking the granite with sharp, rhythmic clicks.
She pulled a stamped federal court document from her coat pocket—signed two hours ago by a district judge in Manhattan, backed by the signed trustee deeds from the leather folder.
"This estate is owned by the Vance-Sterling Trust," Eleanor announced, her voice ringing out clearly through the misty morning air. "I am the sole legal trustee. Your corporate freeze was overturned at 4:30 AM."
Evelyn’s face flushed red with rage. "You think a piece of paper protects you?! Jonathan Vance built this firm! You’re a low-class surrogate who got lucky at a party!"
"I am Leo’s mother," Eleanor said flatly, stepping directly into Evelyn’s personal space, looking her dead in the eye. "And if your men don't vacate this property in thirty seconds, my attorneys will execute a federal search warrant for Jonathan Vance’s offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands."
May you like
Evelyn froze. She looked at the stamped federal document, then at the four stone-faced guards standing behind Eleanor, and finally at the absolute, terrifying lack of fear in Eleanor’s clear blue eyes.
Evelyn cursed under her breath, turned to her men, and gestured toward the driveway. "Pack it up. We’re leaving."
