Chapter 9 - The Eviction at Lake Shore DriveBy 4:00 PM that afternoon, the rain had stopped, leaving the Chicago skyline bathed in a cold, grey twilight.
A sleek black Maybach pulled up to the gated entrance of the exclusive high-rise at 1100 Lake Shore Drive—the sprawling penthouse where Dominic and I had lived for five years, and where he had secretly hosted Jessica while I was staying at Victor’s bedside.
I stepped out of the vehicle, accompanied by my father, Sterling, and four private Vale security guards.
The building’s head concierge, an older man named Arthur who had worked the front desk for twenty years, rushed out to open the glass doors, looking visibly anxious.
"Mrs. DeLuca—I mean, Mrs. Vale," Arthur stammered, bowing his head nervously. "We saw the news alerts on the financial networks. We weren't sure..."
"Is Miss Mercer’s staff inside the penthouse, Arthur?" I asked calmly, pulling off my leather gloves.
"Her personal assistant and two interior decorators arrived two hours ago, ma'am," Arthur replied, handing me a fresh master keycard. "They were packing up your personal belongings into boxes to move them down to the storage basement, per Mr. Dominic’s previous orders from yesterday."
My father’s jaw tightened. "They were throwing my daughter’s things in the basement?"
"Not anymore," I said softly, taking the master keycard. "Follow me."
We took the private express elevator to the 50th floor. When the brass doors slid open, the sound of loud, triumphant laughter and pop music echoed down the marble hallway from inside the double mahogany doors of the penthouse.
I swiped the keycard. The heavy doors clicked open.
Inside, the grand living room overlooking Lake Michigan was in complete disarray. Dozens of my personal items—paintings my mother had left me, my grandmother’s antique porcelain tea set, my architectural sketches—were piled carelessly into cardboard boxes near the front door.
Sitting on my Italian leather sofa, sipping my vintage champagne, was Jessica’s younger sister, Chloe, alongside two of Jessica’s high-society friends.
May you like
Chloe froze, her champagne flute stopping halfway to her mouth as she saw me step into the foyer, flanked by four six-foot-four security officers and Charles Vale.
"What are you doing here?" Chloe demanded, recovering her arrogance as she stood up. "Dominic said you were being kicked out today! This penthouse belongs to Jessica now!"
