Chapter 6 - The Repossession of Pride
Beatrice spun back around toward Camilla, her face a mask of trembling, incandescent fury, her manicured fingers clawing at the air.
"You called them," Beatrice hissed, her voice dropping into a venomous, low register that shook with suppressed rage. "You actually brought repo men into a public establishment to humiliate me. Do you have any idea who my family is? Do you know how many judges, city council members, and civic leaders owe favors to the Linwood name?"
Camilla didn't flinch. She remained seated, her hands resting calmly on the table around her coffee cup, her eyes locking onto her mother-in-law with unyielding ice.
"I know exactly who your family is, Beatrice," Camilla said smoothly. "A dynasty built on borrowed credit, inflated egos, and other people's labor. But your social circle isn't going to bail you out of a federal asset-seizure warrant."
The two men in dark suits bypassed Camilla’s table entirely, walking with steady, methodical strides toward the front glass doors where Beatrice’s luxury SUV was parked in the red zone. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, patrons and pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped to watch as one of the agents slapped a bright orange, tamper-evident seizure notice across the driver’s side window, while the second agent pulled a master towing key from his belt.
Beatrice rushed to the window, pressing her palms against the glass as if her sheer willpower could stop the tow truck backing up from around the corner.
"Stop them! That vehicle is registered under the Linwood Family Trust!" Beatrice shrieked, turning back to glare at Gavin, who had just stepped out of the kitchen with a fresh tray of linens. Gavin pointedly looked away, humming a tune under his breath. "Camilla, call them off right now, or I swear to God I will make sure you never cook in this county again. I will ruin Lumina so completely that health inspectors will camp out in your grease traps until you're bankrupt!"
"You've already tried that for seven years, Beatrice," Camilla replied, standing up slowly from her chair and smoothing down her apron. "The only difference is that now, you don't have my kitchen tabs to pay for your bridge club's champagne."
Before Beatrice could lunge across the dining room, her cell phone buzzed violently in her designer handbag. She snatched it out, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped the device, and swiped the screen.
"Hello?" she snapped.
A heavy, exhausted male voice crackled through the speaker—not Lucas, but someone far more dangerous. It was Arthur Vance, Beatrice’s primary legal counsel and the senior partner of the county’s most expensive defense firm.
"Beatrice," Arthur’s voice sounded tense, stripped of its usual oily confidence. "We have a massive problem. The district attorney's office just called. They aren't treating this as a civil dispute anymore. They've escalated the forensic audit into a full criminal indictment for grand larceny and wire fraud."
Beatrice’s knees buckled slightly. She caught herself against the edge of a nearby wooden table, her breath catching in her throat. "Criminal... criminal indictment? Arthur, you represent us! Fix it! File an injunction! Get Judge Sterling on the phone!"
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"I can't," Arthur replied flatly. "Judge Sterling recused himself ten minutes ago. And your son... Lucas just tried to wire fifty thousand dollars out of an offshore account to flee to Cabo. The federal marshals picked him up at Lindbergh Field before his boarding pass even printed."
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