Chapter Five: The Eviction
The humiliation didn’t end in the vault.
That was merely the prelude.
The true dismantling of Harrison Sterling happened in the public eye, under the gray, weeping sky of Manhattan.
Security escorted him out of the Federal Reserve—not through the main exit, but through a side door that spilled out onto Maiden Lane.
They handed him a plastic bag containing his phone and watch.
“You are not permitted to re-enter the premises,” the guard said, closing the heavy metal door.
The bolt slid home with a sound like a gunshot.
Harrison stood on the sidewalk.
It had started to rain—a cold, stinging drizzle that soaked through his Tom Ford suit within seconds.
He fumbled for his phone.
He needed to call Jessica. She was the only thing he had left. She would understand.
They could go to the Hamptons house.
Wait. No, he had given that to Saraphina.
They could go to a hotel.
He turned on his phone.
It exploded with notifications.
WSJ Alert: Sterling Dynamics stock plummets 60% after lease scandal.
CNBC: Harrison Sterling ousted as CEO.
Page Six: The Trillion Dollar Divorce—Who Is the Mystery Heiress?
He ignored them all and dialed Jessica.
“Pick up, pick up,” he muttered, wiping rain from his eyes.
“Harrison.”
Her voice was tight. High-pitched.
“Jess, thank God. Listen, it’s a mess. A total mess. Saraphina—she’s insane. She has these lawyers. They froze the accounts. I need you to pack a bag. Pack the jewelry, the cash from the safe—everything. Meet me at the St. Regis. I’ll explain everything when I—”
“Harrison.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? Just get a cab.”
“No. I mean the police are here.”
Harrison froze in the middle of the sidewalk.
A pedestrian bumped into him and cursed, but he didn’t notice.
“The police? At the penthouse?”
“They’re evicting us, Harrison.”
Jessica was crying now, but it sounded like angry tears, not sympathetic ones.
“They said the apartment belongs to the bank. They gave me ten minutes to gather my personal belongings. They’re watching me pack.”
“Put them on the phone.”
Harrison roared.
“That is my property.”
“They said it’s not. And Harrison—my cards aren’t working. I tried to Uber to my sister’s and it declined. You said I was an authorized user on the black card.”
“The accounts are frozen, Jess. Just wait for me downstairs. I’m coming.”
“No.”
The crying stopped abruptly.
“What?”
“I checked the news, Harrison. They’re saying you’re ruined. They’re saying you’re liable for corporate negligence.”
She took a breath.
“I can’t be seen with you. My modeling agency—they’ll drop me if I’m tied to a fraud case.”
“I am not a fraud. I am Harrison Sterling.”
“You’re a broke forty-five-year-old man who just lost his company,” Jessica said, her voice turning ice cold.
“Don’t call me again.”
The line went dead.
Harrison stared at the phone.
He felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest—a hysterical, jagged thing.
She was gone.
The moment the credit limit hit zero, the love evaporated.
Saraphina’s words in the vault echoed in his mind.
I needed to know that if the money vanished, the man would stay.
He put the phone in his pocket.
He had to get to the penthouse. He had to save something.
There was a Patek Philippe Nautilus in the safe worth two hundred thousand dollars.
If he could just get that, he had a lifeline.
