Move on to Chapter Two and discover how the full story is ultimately revealed.

-3-

By Thursday afternoon, the cold reality of his new financial ecosystem had fully crashed down upon Alejandro Vance.

According to Victoria Sterling’s legal log, which was automatically forwarded to my secure tablet, Alejandro had attempted to use three different secondary credit cards—all of which had been quietly issued under my corporate umbrella over the years—only to find every single one of them blocked, frozen, and scrubbed from the active registry.

Worse still, his monthly wire transfer to his parents’ struggling carpentry workshop in Indiana had failed to clear on Wednesday morning. His mother had reportedly called him in hysterics, demanding to know why the customary five-thousand-dollar living allowance hadn't arrived, forcing Alejandro to frantically scrape together pocket change from Claudia’s personal savings account just to wire them a meager four hundred dollars—barely enough to cover their utility bill.

The crown jewel of his panic, however, arrived precisely at 3:00 PM on Thursday afternoon.

Victoria Sterling herself, accompanied by two armed private security guards and a county sheriff’s deputy, walked through the front doors of my downtown Chicago high-rise condo, carrying a formal, court-certified notice of eviction and immediate property repossession.

I sat in my hospital room, watching the security camera feed of the condo’s private foyer stream live onto my tablet screen.

Alejandro had been sitting on the custom Italian leather sofa, frantically tapping away on his laptop, trying to figure out how to salvage his collapsing corporate accounts, when the sharp, authoritative knock echoed through the foyer.

He frowned, slamming his laptop shut and walking toward the door. When he pulled it open, expecting a delivery driver or a panicked client, he found Victoria Sterling standing tall in her immaculate charcoal pantsuit, flanked by law enforcement.

“Mr. Alejandro Vance?” Victoria’s voice rang crisp and clear through the intercom speaker.

“Yes? Who are you? What is this?” Alejandro demanded, his posture stiffening defensively as he blocked the doorway.

“My name is Victoria Sterling, managing partner of Sterling & Associates and legal counsel for Camila Vance,” Victoria stated coldly, holding up a thick manila folder stamped with official seals. “I am here to serve you with an immediate notice of lease revocation, property repossession, and unlawful detainer regarding this residential unit.”

Alejandro’s face flushed a deep, mottled crimson. He let out a loud, incredulous bark of laughter. “Are you out of your mind? This is my home! I have a signed marital settlement agreement granting me full occupancy of this residence!”

“You have a fraudulent, unratified separation draft signed under extreme emotional duress while your wife was undergoing emergency neurosurgery,” Victoria corrected him smoothly, stepping forward and forcing Alejandro to take an involuntary step backward into his own foyer. “Furthermore, the deed to this condominium is held entirely within an irrevocable dynastic trust belonging exclusively to Camila Vance. Your name does not appear anywhere on the property title, the mortgage ledger, or the deed registry. You are, legally speaking, a squatter.”

“A squatter?!” Alejandro shrieked, his voice pitching upward into a hysterical squeak that echoed off the marble floors. “I’ve lived here for five years! I’m her husband!”

“Not for much longer,” Victoria replied with chilling professional detachment. “And as of right now, you have exactly two hours to pack your personal belongings, gather Claudia and her child, and vacate the premises. If you are still inside this building at 5:00 PM, the sheriff will remove you physically for trespassing.”

Just then, Claudia appeared from the back hallway, holding her one-year-old baby in her arms, looking wide-eyed and terrified as she took in the sight of armed security guards and a county deputy standing in her foyer.

“Alejandro? What’s happening? Who are these people?” Claudia cried out, her voice trembling.

“They’re insane! They’re lying!” Alejandro yelled, turning back toward Claudia in a blind panic. “Call my lawyer! Call someone!”

“Your lawyer cannot help you, Mr. Vance,” Victoria said, turning on her heel and gesturing to the security guards. “Start the inventory sweep. Pack his things in plastic bins. The locks are being changed at 5:01 PM sharp.”

I watched the live stream on my tablet, leaning back against my hospital pillows with a quiet, unbothered serenity. The high-rise condo—the sparkling symbol of Alejandro’s parasitic ascension—was being stripped away from him in broad daylight, exactly like the illusion of control he had tried to force upon me before my surgery.

My phone buzzed against the bed. It was a text message from Victoria Sterling.

“Phase Two complete. The squatter is packing his designer suits into Hefty garbage bags as we speak. Claudia is crying in the kitchen. Shall I proceed with Phase Three?”