“It was for the family,” Vivian snapped desperately.
My father tapped his cane against the marble floor. “Enough.”
He pulled documents from his coat and tossed them at William’s feet. “Your textile company has been bleeding money for years, and six months ago you secured a massive loan from a private investment fund to save this mansion.”
William swallowed hard. “Yes, and what of it.”
“That fund belongs to me,” my father said calmly. “I purchased your debt, your mortgages, and your promissory notes.”
Vivian staggered backward. “That is impossible.”
“According to clause 4B in the contract you signed without reading, immoral or criminal behavior allows immediate foreclosure,” my father continued. “Public humiliation, false accusations, and assault certainly qualify.”
He pulled out his phone and made a call. “Execute the order.”
The lights flickered and shut off, leaving only emergency lighting. “Your utilities have been terminated, and your bank accounts are frozen,” he added.
William dropped to his knees in front of me. “Brooke, please forgive me, I was misled.”
I looked down at him with calm clarity. “A husband does not stand silent while his wife is stripped in front of strangers.”