Chapter 3
Arthur let out a harsh laugh, turning his back to me to pour himself a glass of vintage scotch.
"Start looking for an apartment, Chloe. I'll instruct corporate accounting to set up a modest monthly allowance for you until the divorce mediation. I won't leave you destitute, even if your behavior warrants it."
I bypassed my contacts and dialed an unlisted Manhattan number.
It rang twice before a sharp, elite voice answered.
"Vance & Associates Legal. This is Richard Vance."
"Richard," I said clearly. "It's Chloe Vanguard. I want to file for divorce."
Arthur didn't freeze. He didn't drop his glass.
Instead, a faint smirk touched his lips.
He slowly swirled the liquid in his crystal tumbler, looking amused.
"Understood." Richard’s tone instantly shifted to profound respect. "Is there a safety concern?"
"No. But I need to protect my pre-marital assets. Please pull up the original deed for the Cherry Valley estate."
Arthur chuckled, taking a slow sip of his scotch.
He leaned back against the marble island, watching me like a parent watching a toddler throw a tantrum.
"Chloe, stop playing ridiculous games. You're bluffing, and it's pathetic. Go upstairs and take a nap."
Over the line, the sound of typing filled the silence.
"I have it on my screen, Chloe. The Cherry Valley estate is held by the Vanguard Family Trust. Your husband has no legal claim to it."
"Excellent," I said, keeping my eyes locked on Arthur's smug face.
"I want an emergency eviction order drafted against Arthur Sterling and Sophia Hayes. Give them seventy-two hours to pack their personal belongings and vacate my property."
Arthur’s smirk remained.
He shook his head, deaf to the call, unconvinced that a stay-at-home mother could touch his world.
He didn't wait around to hear more.
He set his glass down, picked up his briefcase, and walked toward the stairs.
"That's not happening," he murmured smoothly over his shoulder, his footsteps echoing up the staircase.
"Understood," Richard replied over the line, completely unbothered by Arthur’s arrogance.
"Chloe, I'll have the notice served to him tomorrow morning."
"Thank you," I said, and hung up.
Leaning back against my crutches, I watched the empty staircase.
Arthur had exactly seventy-two hours left in my house.
But men like Arthur Sterling never smiled unless they believed they still held the stronger hand.
Which meant I still hadn't seen all of his cards.