Chapter 4 - THE FREEZING OF ASSETS
The next morning, the air felt different. It was crisp, unforgiving, and full of
the scent of burning bridges. I walked into the lobby of the bank, my heels
clicking on the marble floor. The manager recognized me immediately, offering a
sympathetic smile. "I heard what happened, Mrs. Miller," he said, leading me to
a private office. "It's just Ms. Thorne now," I corrected him, using my maiden
name. He nodded, quickly adjusting the documents on his screen. "You wanted to
discuss the corporate accounts for Thorne Architecture?" "Yes," I said, placing
my laptop on the desk. "I want to revoke all access previously granted to
Jackson Miller." The manager hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys. "But
he is listed as a secondary signatory for the operational funds." "Not anymore,"
I said, handing him the police report and the temporary restraining order. "He
has been charged with felony assault, and as the sole owner of the firm, I am
terminating his involvement." The manager’s eyes widened as he read the details
of the dinner. He didn't ask any more questions. Within minutes, Jackson’s cards
were declined across the city. His credit line, which he used to fund his
mother’s lavish lifestyle, was severed. I watched the notifications pop up on my
phone. Attempted transaction at a luxury car dealership: Declined. Attempted
transaction at a high-end boutique: Declined. Genesis was trying to shop her
stress away, using my money. Not today. Not ever again. I left the bank and
headed to my office. The staff was quiet, the news had traveled fast. I walked
into the boardroom and saw Jackson’s brother, Leo, sitting there. He looked
tired, his suit rumpled. "Elara, please," he started, standing up. "Don't do
this, the family business can't handle a scandal right now." "The family
business is built on fraud, Leo," I said, not sitting down. "I know about the
structural integrity reports for the Heights Project." Leo went pale, the blood
draining from his face. "How did you get those?" he whispered. "I’m the lead
architect, remember?" I replied, leaning over the table. "You thought I just
signed the drawings you gave me?" "I checked everything, every bolt, every
weld." "And I have the real reports, not the ones you gave the city." Leo sat
back down, his shoulders slumped. "What do you want?" "I want the St. Paul
apartment transferred fully to my name, no liens," I said. "And I want Jackson
to sign the divorce papers today, without contest." "If he doesn't," I
continued, "I hand these files to the District Attorney." Leo looked at me like
he was seeing a stranger. "You're destroying us," he said, his voice trembling.
"No," I countered, "you destroyed yourselves when you let him throw that plate."
"You destroyed yourselves when you asked me to pay for your mother’s sins." I
walked out of the room, leaving him with the weight of his own choices. My
assistant followed me into my office, looking nervous. "There’s a woman
outside," she said, "she says she’s your mother-in-law." "Tell her I’m busy," I
said, opening a file. "She says she won’t leave until you talk to her." I
sighed, feeling a surge of cold irritation. "Fine, send her in." Genesis walked
in, her head held high, trying to maintain the illusion of power. "You've gone
too far, Elara," she began, slamming her handbag onto my desk. "My son is in a
cell because of your theatrics." "Your son is in a cell because he’s a violent
coward," I said, not looking up from my screen. "And you're here because you
realized the tap has run dry." "How dare you!" she shrieked, her voice echoing
through the glass walls. "I am your elder, you owe me respect!" I finally looked
up, my eyes locking onto hers. "I owe you nothing," I said slowly. "Not a penny,
not a room, not a second of my time." "Get out before I have security remove you
for trespassing." Genesis looked like she wanted to strike me, but she saw the
camera in the corner of the room. She knew I was recording. She knew I wasn't
afraid of her anymore. She turned on her heel and marched out, her dignity
trailing behind her like a tattered cape. I leaned back in my chair, feeling the
power of my own voice. The apartment was mine. The business was mine. And soon,
the freedom would be mine too. I picked up my pen and began to sketch. Not a
May you like
building this time. But a path forward, away from the ruins of the Millers. The
architect was finished with the old plans. It was time to build something new.
