Chapter 4 - The Audit and the Freezing of Assets
By 10:00 PM, the mansion was completely empty of guests. The expensive wine bottles sat half-empty on crystal tables, the gourmet food grew cold, and the lavish decorations mocking the misery happening just yards away now stood as silent witnesses to my family’s betrayal.
I sat at the massive mahogany dining table—the same table Gertrude had used to host her elite friends—with my laptop open in front of me. Sarah was upstairs, wrapped in a warm, clean bath for the first time in years, while Jamie slept peacefully in a soft, comfortable bed, his stomach finally full of warm, nourishing food.
Prudence and Gertrude sat across from me. They were no longer screaming. The initial wave of panic had settled into a sullen, bitter desperation.
“You can’t freeze the accounts, Arthur,” Prudence muttered, staring stubbornly at the polished wood surface. “Mom’s name is listed as a secondary holder for emergency purposes. Legally, we have rights to—"
“Prudence, stop talking,” Gertrude hissed, though her voice lacked its usual venom. She looked older tonight—older and smaller, stripped of the grand illusion of wealth she had built on the back of my suffering. She looked across the table at me, her eyes watery. “Arthur… please. We are family. Blood is thicker than water. Are you really going to throw your own mother and sister out onto the street over some… some bookkeeping misunderstandings?”
I looked up from my laptop screen, where the online banking portal displayed the horrifying financial records I had just downloaded.
“Bookkeeping misunderstandings?” I asked quietly, turning the screen slightly so they could see the itemized list of transactions.
$12,000 to 'Luxe Couture Boutique' (Prudence’s clothing store).
$8,500 for a luxury cruise to the Mediterranean under Gertrude’s name.
$25,000 in monthly country club dues and bar tabs.
Zero dollars spent on groceries or healthcare for Sarah and Jamie after the first three months.
“For four years and nine months,” I said, every word hitting the air like lead weights, “you didn’t just neglect my wife and son. You deliberately stripped them of their dignity, locked them out of the house I built for them, and treated them like domestic slaves so you could fund a lifestyle you never earned.”
“Sarah was lazy!” Prudence suddenly snapped, flashing a spark of her old defiance. “She didn’t want to work! She didn’t fit in with our crowd! She sat around moping all day, so we put her where she belonged—out of sight!”
That was the exact moment I knew there was no remorse in them. Not an ounce.
I closed the laptop with a sharp snap.
“As of midnight tonight,” I said coldly, “every single credit card, bank account, and asset tied to my earnings has been frozen and transferred to an independent trust managed exclusively by my legal counsel. Furthermore, my lawyers have already filed emergency injunctions against this property.”
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Gertrude gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re locking us out of our own home?”
“This was never your home, Mother,” I replied, standing up from the table. “It was a hotel you occupied while draining my life’s blood. Pack your things. You have until eight o'clock tomorrow morning. After that, the sheriff will escort you off the premises.”
