Chapter 19 - The PurgeTwo weeks later, a large commercial moving truck was parked outside the Gold Coast estate.
The morning air was crisp and fresh with the scent of autumn leaves. I stood on the front lawn in a warm cashmere coat, holding a clipboard alongside Eleanor.
Three professional movers were carrying out the last remnants of Evan’s personal belongings—his custom suits, his golf clubs, his portrait paintings, and his designer furniture. Every item had been appraised, liquidated by court order, or designated for auction to satisfy the outstanding corporate debts and legal fees.
A crowd of neighbors stood near the wrought-iron fence, watching in quiet, respectful approval as the final wardrobe box was loaded into the back of the truck.
Brooke stood near the curb beside a battered silver sedan she had rented, watching the movers with red-rimmed eyes. She wore plain jeans and a faded sweater, stripped of her designer labels and social media glamor.
As I walked down the front steps, Brooke took a hesitant step toward me.
"Claire..." Brooke whispered, her voice stripped of its old sugary malice. "Please... my mother can't survive prison. She's fifty-eight years old. Is there any way your lawyers can request a medical pardon?"
I stopped near the bottom step, looking down at her.
"Your mother forged my name to pay off your debts, Brooke," I said calmly. "And when Evan handed me that basin of water, you pulled out your phone to film my humiliation for your followers."
Brooke dropped her gaze to the wet pavement, unable to answer.
May you like
"You spent years helping your family bleed me dry," I continued softly. "You don't get to ask for mercy now that the blood is yours."
I turned away from her and walked up the stone pathway toward the front door. Behind me, I heard the heavy rear gate of the moving truck slam shut, followed by the roar of its engine as it drove down the street, taking the last physical trace of Evan Mercer away forever.
