Chapter 3 - The First Fracture
The morning sun rose over the Pacific Northwest, casting a golden, deceptive warmth across the sprawling glass facade of the Vance estate. Birds chirped in the cedar trees, and the morning dew glistened on the immaculate lawns.
Inside the master suite, Ethan woke with a mild hangover and a sense of absolute invincibility. He rolled over, slapping the alarm clock, and nudged Vanessa’s door open to find her already dressed in a sharp St. John knit suit, sipping artisanal coffee at her vanity.
"Morning, CEO," Vanessa beamed, adjusting her pearl earrings. "Did you sleep well knowing today is the day we finally cleanse this property of the parasite?"
"Like a baby," Ethan grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. "I'm going to go down to the guest quarters, drag Eleanor out of her pathetic little cot, and make her sign the transfer documents in front of a notary. After that, we drop her off at a Greyhound bus station downtown with a twenty-dollar bill and her rat-infested suitcase."
"Don't forget to take her phone," Vanessa added coldly. "We wouldn't want her calling any local tabloid reporters to spin some sob story."
Ten minutes later, Ethan strode down the grand curved staircase, his leather loafers clicking sharply against the imported Italian marble. He reached the end of the East Wing, where Eleanor had been relegated to a converted maid's quarters—a tiny, windowless room designed to humiliate her daily.
He didn't bother knocking. He slammed his palm against the hollow-core wooden door, shoving it open with enough force to bang it against the drywall.
"Rise and shine, beggar," Ethan sneered, stepping into the room.
The room was empty.
The bed was made with military precision—sheets pulled taut, hospital corners tucked so sharply they looked architectural. The small wooden wardrobe stood open, completely bare except for a single wire hanger swinging gently in the draft. On the small nightstand sat a neat stack of items: her old, cracked wedding band, a worn cotton apron, and a handwritten note scrawled in her elegant, precise cursive.
Ethan’s brow furrowed in irritation. He snatched up the note, his eyes scanning the lines.
Ethan,
You always said I brought nothing to this marriage. Let’s see how well you manage without me.
— E.
"What an absolute melodrama," Ethan scoffed aloud, tossing the note onto the floor. He turned on his heel, assuming she had retreated to the kitchen to sulk or brew coffee. "Eleanor! Stop playing games and get out here right now! The notary will be here in twenty minutes!"
He marched back through the grand hallway toward the kitchen. Vanessa was waiting by the marble island, reviewing a catering invoice for an upcoming charity gala she planned to host as the sole lady of the house.
"Where is she?" Vanessa asked, not looking up. "Did you throw her out already?"
"She packed her things and left," Ethan said, a trace of annoyance in his voice. "Probably went crying to one of her broke college friends. Honestly, it saves us the trouble of dragging her to the curb."
Vanessa finally looked up, a sharp smile curling her crimson lips. "Good riddance. Call the locksmith immediately. I want the front gates reprogrammed by noon. I refuse to have her crawling back here when she realizes she has nowhere to sleep."
Ethan pulled out his smartphone, tapped open his contacts, and dialed the local locksmith company he used for the estate's high-security biometric gates. He pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for the familiar automated greeting.
Instead, a harsh, synthesized voice chimed through the speaker: “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is temporarily out of service due to unpaid billing balances on your corporate account. Please contact your financial institution to resolve this issue.”
Ethan blinked, pulling the phone away from his ear to stare at the screen in utter disbelief.
"Damn system glitch," he muttered, shaking his head. He tried dialing his business partner, Arthur, to handle the locksmith arrangement instead.
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Three rings. Then: “Your call cannot be completed as dialed. This account has been frozen by order of the federal bankruptcy court and primary asset holders.”
Ethan froze, a cold drop of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. "What the hell is going on?"
