Chapter 9 - The Legal Ultimatum
Instead of driving straight to the estate in a blind rage, Ethan and I consulted with a high-powered family attorney recommended by Mrs. Walsh's son. Armed with the high-definition doorbell footage, medical documentation of the scalp trauma, and a formal statement from Mrs. Walsh, our legal team drafted an absolute devastation package.
Three days later, Ethan walked through the front doors of the Caldwell estate alone, his suit impeccably tailored, his expression carved from absolute ice.
Victoria was sitting in the formal parlor, sipping her afternoon tea as if she had won an Academy Award for her performance.
"Ethan, darling! You're back early," Victoria smiled smoothly, standing up to embrace him. "I trust you had a safe flight from Chicago. We need to talk about that ungrateful little gold-digger you married—"
"Shut your mouth, Victoria," Ethan interrupted, his voice cutting through the parlor like a whip. He didn't even flinch away from her embrace; he simply stepped back and tossed a thick manila legal folder directly onto her silver tea tray, scattering porcelain cups everywhere.
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Victoria blinked, her aristocratic mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "Ethan? What is the meaning of this tone?"
"It means I know everything," Ethan said, leaning down until his eyes locked onto hers with lethal intensity. "And as of this exact second, you are cut out of my life, my finances, and my future forever."
