“You have twenty-four hours,” I said. “Pack what belongs to you. Leave what doesn’t. If any of you are still occupying my property tomorrow morning, security will remove you.”
The meeting ended in chaos.
By the time I reached the lobby, Adeline was there. She took one look at Prescott’s face, at Randolph’s collapse, at me walking calmly behind them, and erupted.
“What did you do?” she shrieked. “You vindictive little parasite! Fix this right now! I want my accounts unfrozen!”
She stormed toward me, finger raised, voice bouncing off marble and glass. But before she reached me, the revolving doors spun and Warren walked in.
He wore a charcoal suit and an expression so composed it made Adeline’s frenzy look theatrical. Beside him walked his attorney, silver-haired and severe, holding a leather briefcase.
“Warren,” Adeline said, and for one foolish second relief transformed her face. “Thank God. Tell them this is illegal. We need access to money right now. I need you to”
Her attorney did not wait for her to finish. He opened the briefcase, removed a thick stack of papers, and pressed them into her hands.
“You’ve been served,” he said.