Chapter 4 - The House of Cards Collapses
The boardroom erupted into chaos. Two of the older trustees began arguing loudly, while Graham quietly tried to step away from the conference table, only to find the boardroom door blocked by two corporate security guards Rowan had dispatched before the meeting even began.
On screen, Celeste’s face had gone entirely white. The elegant, untouchable sister-in-law who had spent six weeks torturing me in my own home was suddenly reduced to a trapped animal.
"This meeting is adjourned," Uncle Charles barked, slamming his hand on the mahogany table. "Celeste, Graham, you will remain in this room. Security, ensure no one leaves and no one accesses any external devices. Rowan, I want a full forensic team at the estate within the hour. Abigail... please accept my deepest apologies. We will handle this internally."
"No, Uncle Charles," I said, my voice firm. "We won't be handling this entirely internally. The medical neglect, the physical intimidation, and the restriction of my movement inside my own home—that is a criminal matter. Lena has already provided her statement to our personal legal counsel, along with the audio recordings I captured on my phone every time Celeste threatened me."
Celeste looked directly at the camera, her eyes burning with pure venom. "You think you’ve won, Abigail? You’re an outsider. You’ll always be an outsider. Even if you throw me to the wolves, this family will never truly accept you. Look at your husband—he left you alone with me for six weeks because he cared more about his corporate acquisition than his pregnant wife!"
The words hit their mark. I felt a cold chill in my chest, and I glanced at Rowan. He didn't look away. The pain and shame on his face were undeniable. Celeste had aimed her final arrow at the single weakest point in our marriage: the fact that he hadn't been there when I needed him most.
"That's enough," Rowan said, his voice quiet but shaking with a terrifying intensity. "The only person leaving this family is you, Celeste. The independent trustee has already initiated the clause to strip your beneficiary status for corporate fraud. You are no longer an Armand. You are a defendant."
With that, Rowan reached over and ended the video call. The wall monitor went black.
The silence that followed in the hospital room was heavy, suffocatingly so. The steady thump-thump of the fetal monitor was the only constant. Lena stood near the door, her eyes cast downward, giving us what little privacy she could manage in a hospital room.
"Abby," Rowan began, stepping closer to the bed.
"Don't," I said, holding up my hand. I closed the laptop and pushed the table away. The adrenaline that had sustained me through the confrontation was beginning to fade, leaving behind a profound, bone-deep exhaustion. "She was right about one thing, Rowan. You weren't here. I told you things were getting weird. I told you she was being overbearing, and you told me she was just trying to help because of the high-risk pregnancy."
"I know," he whispered, burying his face in his hands. "I thought... I thought I was securing our child’s future by closing that tech acquisition. I thought leaving you in the estate with family was the safest place you could possibly be. I never dreamed my own sister could be a monster."
"Greed makes monsters out of ordinary people every day, Rowan," I said, leaning my head back against the pillows. "And Celeste was never ordinary. She was desperate. She lost millions in her own private currency investments last year—I found the margin call notices hidden in the deleted server caches weeks ago. That’s why she did this. She needed a scapegoat to fund her escape, and I was the perfect target."
The door opened quietly, and the OB-GYN walked back in, checking the printout from the fetal monitor. She looked at the tense atmosphere in the room and sighed.
"The contractions have stabilized," the doctor announced, looking squarely at Rowan. "But as I said before, Mrs. Armand needs absolute serenity for the next twelve weeks. No board meetings. No legal depositions. No family drama. If I see her blood pressure spike like it did ten minutes ago, I am admitting her for the remainder of her term. Am I making myself clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Doctor," Rowan said. He turned back to me, his eyes filled with a desperate plea for a second chance. "We’re leaving the estate, Abby. Today. I’ve already authorized the purchase of a private property in coastal Maine. Just you, me, and a private medical team that answers directly to us. No trust funds, no family politics. I’ll step down as active managing partner if I have to."
May you like
I looked at my husband. I loved him, but the scars of the last six weeks—the literal bruises on my arms and the deeper ones on my trust—were not going to heal overnight.
"We’re moving," I agreed, my voice steady. "But I’m not signing anything regarding the family trust until my lawyers review it. And Rowan? You aren't stepping down. You’re going to use your voting shares to ensure Celeste and Graham face the maximum legal penalty. If you want to protect this baby, you start by ensuring the people who tried to hurt us never see the light of day again."
