Chapter 8
The arrival of Marcus and the security team shifted the atmosphere in the room from a tense standoff into a military occupation. The men, all white American adults dressed in sharp, tactical suits, moved with terrifying efficiency. They bypassed Heloise completely, standing at attention around Aldric. The bright, natural light illuminated their imposing figures, casting no doubt on who truly held power in the estate.
"The perimeter is secure, Boss," Marcus reported, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room. "We turned away two local police cruisers at the front gate. Your legal team informed the precinct that this was a private domestic matter and that the initial call from the guests was a misunderstanding. They backed off."
Heloise gasped, her hands flying to her face. "You bought off the police?"
"I don't buy the police, Heloise. I employ the people who fund their pensions," Aldric replied coldly, not even glancing at her. He kept his attention on his security chief. "What is the status of her father's assets?"
"Frozen," Marcus confirmed with a grim, satisfied smile. "Our financial analysts executed the hostile takeover protocols twenty minutes ago. We called in all of his outstanding loans. The Ashford family is effectively bankrupt as of this evening."
Heloise let out a horrifying, breathless shriek. She scrambled off the sofa, dropping her ice pack on the pristine rug. "You can't do this! You are destroying my family over a stupid child's tantrum!"
"I am destroying your family because you put your hands on my blood," Aldric corrected, his voice dropping into a lethal, vibrating hum. He stepped directly into her space, looking down at her with eyes completely devoid of mercy. "You made a five-year-old girl sleep on the floor like a dog. You slapped her face. You thought your money made you untouchable. Now, you have no money. You have nothing."
"Please, Aldric," Heloise begged, her arrogant facade entirely shattered. Tears of genuine, unadulterated terror streamed down her bruised, rosy cheeks. She dropped to her knees on the expensive carpet, clutching at the fabric of his tailored trousers. "I'm sorry! I'll apologize to Thora! I'll buy her whatever she wants! Please don't ruin my father!"
Aldric looked down at her hands gripping his pants. He felt absolutely no pity.
"Take your hands off me," Aldric commanded softly.
Heloise instantly snatched her hands back, cowering on the floor.
"Marcus," Aldric said, turning away from his weeping wife. "Take her upstairs. Give her ten minutes to pack exactly one suitcase of personal clothing. No jewelry. No electronics. When she is finished, put her in a car and drop her off at her father's estate. Let them deal with the fallout together."
"Yes, sir," Marcus nodded. He gestured to two of his men. They stepped forward and hauled Heloise roughly to her feet by her arms.
"Aldric, please! You can't just throw me out!" Heloise wailed as the men dragged her toward the drawing-room doors. Her expensive gown tore slightly in the struggle. "I am your wife! I love you!"
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"You love power," Aldric stated, pouring himself another measure of scotch. He raised his glass slightly toward her as she was dragged away. "And you just met the man who holds it all. Goodbye, Heloise."
Her screams echoed down the grand hallway, fading as she was forced up the stairs, leaving Aldric in the bright, cinematic light of the drawing-room, the undisputed master of his domain.
