Chapter 4 - The Country Club Confrontation
The Commonwealth Country Club was ablaze with golden chandelier light and the clinking of crystal champagne flutes.
Valets in black waistcoats were parking a parade of six-figure sports cars along the circular cobblestone driveway.
Gavin stood at the center of the grand ballroom, dressed in a bespoke Italian tuxedo, holding a glass of vintage Dom Pérignon.
Beside him stood Brenda Larson, draped in a glittering emerald evening gown and dripping in diamond jewelry bought with stolen money.
"To expanding our real estate horizons," Gavin boomed to a circle of wealthy investors, flashing his polished white veneers.
"In this business, you have to know how to acquire distressed assets before the market even knows they’re available."
"Is that what you call dumping our mother under a train overpass in the freezing rain, Gavin?"
My voice cut through the jazz quartet like a gunshot.
The entire ballroom went dead silent as sixty pairs of aristocratic eyes turned toward the entrance.
I walked across the polished marble floor in my tailored black pantsuit, Marcus pacing silently a half-step behind me like a predator stalking its prey.
Gavin’s face flushed an ugly shade of magenta, his champagne glass freezing halfway to his mouth.
"Maya?" Gavin hissed, stepping away from his investors with a forced, patronizing chuckle.
"Security! Why are uninvited guests allowed into a private ballroom?"
"I told you on the phone, little sister, Mom made her financial choices with her own legal counsel."
"She had debts, and I liquidated her assets to protect her from bankruptcy."
"You always were too emotionally unstable to understand complex commercial transactions."
Marcus stepped forward, placing his hands loosely behind his back, his presence dwarfing Gavin in both stature and authority.
"Your mother didn't liquidate anything, Gavin," Marcus said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the vaulted ceiling.
"On October 14th at 2:15 PM, when Brenda Larson purportedly witnessed Clara Vance sign the warranty deed, Clara had a Glasgow Coma Scale score of 4."
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"She was mechanically ventilated in Neuro-ICU Room 308 with zero cognitive awareness."
Brenda Larson gasped, dropping her crystal flute onto the marble floor where it shattered into a hundred sparkling shards.
