Chapter 6 - The Mother-in-Law’s Rage and the Voicemails from Hell
By 3:00 AM, we arrived at our family’s private estate in Greenwich, Connecticut. The iron gates closed behind our convoy, sealing us off from the media storm that was already brewing online.
I sat in the library, sipping hot chamomile tea while my father’s lead attorney, Harrison Vance, laid out the legal roadmap across the mahogany table.
“Harrison,” I said, looking at the legal briefs. “How bad is Derek’s exposure?”
Harrison let out a dry laugh. “Bad? Claire, the man is commercially and legally ruined. By transferring your father’s seed capital to an offshore shell without board authorization, he committed wire fraud and grand larceny. Because the prenuptial agreement’s Section 14-B was triggered by his public acts of bad faith and the documented financial embezzlement, he is personally liable for all damages, plus a three-hundred-percent penalty clause.”
Lena walked in, holding my phone with a look of pure disgust. “You need to hear this. Patricia just left her seventh voicemail.”
Lena hit speakerphone. Patricia’s shrill, hysterical voice echoed through the library:
“Claire Montgomery, you ungrateful, demonic little brat! You humiliated my son! You humiliated our family name! Derek was the best thing that ever happened to you! We know you stole his personal laptop from the apartment! If you don't drop these ridiculous charges and hand over the rights to the logistics patent by tomorrow morning, I will drag your family’s name through every tabloid in New York! You hear me? You will pay for this!”
“Save that recording,” Harrison said calmly, jotting down a note. “That’s witness intimidation and third-degree extortion. We’ll add it to the protective order packet at 8:00 AM.”
My father looked at me, his eyes full of sorrow and regret. “Claire, I’m sorry I didn't see through him earlier. I was so eager to see you settled that I ignored the red flags.”
“It wasn't your fault, Dad,” I replied softly. “Narcissists don't show their real faces until they think you have no way out. He thought that once the ring was on my finger, I’d be too ashamed to speak up. He thought shame would keep me silent.”
“Well,” Lena grinned, pouring herself a cup of tea, “he clearly didn't realize who he was dealing with.”
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Suddenly, the library phone rang. It was the security booth at the main gate.
Marcus’s voice came over the intercom: “Miss Montgomery, Mr. Sterling is currently at the front gate. He’s ramming his Mercedes against the security barrier and demanding to see you. Should we engage?”
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