Chapter 11: The Subpoena
Chapter 11: The Subpoena
Two days later, I was sitting in my corner corporate office overlooking the city, reviewing quarterly reports, while Maya was comfortably set up in the adjoining private lounge. She was sprawled out on a leather sofa, drawing in a new sketchbook with a massive set of colored pencils.
My assistant, Sarah—who had been fiercely protective of Maya since this all started—buzzed my intercom. "Mr. Sterling, Eleanor is in the lobby. She is causing a scene and demanding to see you. Security is asking how you want to handle this. Should they call the police?"
"No," I said calmly, adjusting my tie. "Send her up. But have two large guards escort her, and tell them to stay in the room."
A few minutes later, the heavy oak doors of my office swung open. Eleanor looked terrible. The immaculate, polished woman was gone. Her perfectly styled hair was messy and unwashed, she wasn't wearing makeup, and dark circles dragged down her eyes. The confident, cruel woman from the dining room was entirely gone, replaced by a desperate, frantic shell.
"Richard, please," she begged, rushing toward my desk before the two burly security guards stopped her by the shoulders. "You have to call off the police. They’re threatening to arrest me for child neglect. You froze my accounts. My career is completely ruined. I have absolutely nothing!"
I didn't stand up. I didn't offer her a chair. I just looked at her with absolute, glacial disgust.
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"You did this to yourself, Eleanor. You starved a helpless nine-year-old child because of your own pathetic, insecure jealousy. You have no money because the prenuptial agreement you happily signed voids all spousal support in the event of abuse."
I slid a thick manila folder across my sleek glass desk. "I didn't bring you up here to negotiate or listen to you cry. I brought you up here to personally serve you these."
