The Heiress’s Reckoning: Canceling the $500M Trust Chapter 08

The Heiress’s Reckoning: Canceling the $500M Trust Chapter 08: The Repo Men

“Are the final asset liquidation sheets ready?” I asked.

“Right here,” Julian said. He placed the glowing tablet on my desk.

I picked up my crystal wine glass. “Marcus drained everything?”

“His personal checking accounts are at zero,” Julian confirmed. “He leveraged every single dime against the company.”

“A company he no longer controls.” I swiped past the balance summaries. “Is the street feed live?”

“The recovery team just pulled up to the curb,” Julian replied. He tapped a button on the console. “Channel four.”

The spreadsheet vanished. A high-definition security view of the luxury high-rise filled the monitor.

Leo strutted through the glass double doors. He wore a designer leather jacket. He spun a Porsche key fob around his index finger.

He held his phone to his ear. “Yeah, I’m bringing the 911,” Leo bragged, his voice carrying through the hidden microphone. “Dad said I can park it right by the pool. Tell the girls I’m five minutes away.”

“He doesn’t even have a learner’s permit,” I said. My grip tightened on the stem of the glass.

“Marcus promised him he could use it as a photo prop,” Julian noted.

Two men in heavy canvas work jackets stepped onto the sidewalk. They blocked Leo’s path to the driver’s side door.

“Move out of the way,” Leo snapped. He lowered his phone.

“Are you Marcus Vance?” the taller man asked. He held a metal clipboard.

“I’m his son. And you’re standing too close to the paint.”

The second worker didn’t speak. He reached out and snatched the keys directly from Leo’s finger.

“Hey!” Leo shouted. His voice cracked mid-syllable. “What the hell is wrong with you? Give those back!”

“Vehicle is scheduled for immediate recovery,” the tall man stated. He slapped a bright yellow sticker onto the driver’s side window.

“Recovery? My dad owns this car!”

“Your dad leased this car,” the worker corrected. “The rental agency hasn’t seen a payment in sixty days. The contract is void.”

“You’re lying!” Leo lunged for the keys.

The worker stepped back. He dodged the fourteen-year-old with ease. He held up a laminated document.

“Read the unpaid fee notice, kid. We’re taking the Porsche.”

Leo’s face flushed a violent, mottled red. He kicked the front tire of the tow truck idling next to the curb.

“Do you know who my dad is?” Leo screamed. “He’s a CEO! He’ll sue you until you’re homeless!”

“Tell him to call the agency,” the man grunted. He climbed into the driver’s seat of the sports car.

“Get out of my car!” Leo yelled. He slammed his fists against the hood. “Get out!”

The engine roared to life. The loud exhaust completely drowned out Leo’s tantrum.

A crowd began to gather on the sidewalk. Well-dressed neighbors stopped walking their dogs. Two women in tennis skirts pulled out their phones. They started recording the teenager throwing a fit in the street.

“Stop filming me!” Leo yelled. He spun around to face the onlookers. “I’ll smash your phones!”

“Call security,” one of the women muttered. “This kid is unhinged.”

“Someone should call his parents,” the other woman added. “What a brat.”

A sharp, piercing ache flared in the center of my chest.

I set the wine glass down. The ruby liquid sloshed over the rim. It stained the white liquidation papers.

I stared at the boy on the screen. His face twisted in ugly rage. He hurled insults at strangers.

“He’s destroying his own reputation,” Julian observed.

“He’s fourteen,” I whispered.

I turned away from the monitor.

“He borrowed an eraser once,” I said, my voice barely audible. “In third grade. He cried for an hour because he thought the other boy would fail his math test without it. I walked him two miles in the rain just to return it.”

“People change under the influence of money,” Julian offered quietly.

“This isn’t money. This is a disease.”

Stripping away this fake privilege hurt worse than Marcus handing me those divorce papers. Oxygen thinned in the room. I tried to inhale, but my lungs refused to expand.

A layer of cold sweat broke out across my spine. The damp chill pasted my silk blouse to my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, heavy and erratic.

“Madam President?” Julian asked. His tone shifted. “Do you need a moment?”

“No.” I forced the word out.

I grabbed a napkin and dabbed the spilled wine. “Send this footage to the legal team.”

“Just the legal team?”

“Have them forward it directly to Marcus’s board of directors,” I ordered. “Make sure they see their CEO’s son brawling with repomen over unpaid rental fees.”

“The board will demand an emergency meeting by morning,” Julian confirmed. His fingers flew across his tablet. “They despise public embarrassment.”

“Marcus built his entire brand on a lie. I want the board to watch it unravel in real time. Include the audio.”

“Done,” Julian said.

On the monitor, the Porsche reversed out of the parking space. The tow truck followed closely behind.

Leo stood alone in the street. The neighbors whispered. They pointed at him.

He spun on his heel. He didn’t look at the cameras anymore. He sprinted back toward the glass doors of the high-rise.

“Switch the feed,” I said. “Penthouse camera.”

Julian swiped his screen. The monitor flickered. It instantly loaded the interior view of Marcus’s apartment.

The massive living room was completely empty. Chloe’s designer luggage sat abandoned near the front door.

The front door flew open. It slammed hard against the wall. The impact rattled the framed artwork.

Leo stormed inside. His chest heaved.

“Chloe!” he yelled.

Silence answered him.

“Chloe! They took the car!” he shouted. He paced the entryway. He marched over to the coat closet. “Dad’s going to kill you! He told you to pay the bill!”

No one appeared.

Leo stopped pacing. His gaze dropped to the floor.

Chloe’s oversized leather tote bag rested against the console table. It sat unzipped. The gold hardware gleamed under the chandelier.

“Where is she?” Leo muttered.

He dropped to his knees. He grabbed the handles of the expensive bag. He yanked it open.

“What is he doing?” Julian asked.

“Looking for answers,” I replied. I leaned closer to the monitor.

Leo shoved aside a makeup bag. He tossed a pair of sunglasses onto the rug. He dug his hands deep into the silk lining.

His fingers snagged on a thick wad of paper.

He yanked it out.

A massive stack of crumpled receipts spilled onto the hardwood floor.

Leo picked up the top paper. He flattened it against his thigh. His eyes scanned the ink.

“Declined,” Leo read aloud.

He grabbed the next slip of paper.

“Insufficient funds,” he whispered.

He dug through the pile faster. He uncovered a bright pink ticket.

“Pawn shop?” he muttered.

His expression completely changed. The anger vanished entirely.

Sheer, unfiltered shock replaced it.