Chapter 3 - The Real Breadwinner
I looked at Evelyn and let out a cold, hollow laugh.
Grayson loved to tell his friends that I was the reason he had a home. He liked to play the traditional provider, the humble patriarch. What he never mentioned at those dinner parties was that the home we lived in was purchased by my grandfather's trust. What he never said was that the seed money for his "successful" logistics firm was a zero-interest loan from my personal accounts—a loan with a morality clause built into the operating agreement, drafted by Evelyn five years ago because my father insisted on it.
Grayson wasn't a king. He was a tenant.
"The joint account is currently holding two hundred thousand dollars," Evelyn noted, tapping her pen against the folder. "The moment a judge signs this freeze, he won't be able to buy a cup of coffee."
"Do it," I said, looking at my sleeping son. "And Evelyn? Text the property manager. I want Avery's and Victoria's belongings boxed up and placed on the front lawn by noon. Change the locks."
Evelyn smiled—a sharp, lethal expression. "I'll call the judge now. What are you going to do?"
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I looked at the clock on the hospital wall. 8:15 AM. The wedding ceremony at the Botanical Atrium was scheduled to start at 9:00 AM.
"I'm going to a wedding," I said.
