Chapter 6 - The Cornered AnimalThe vote was unanimous. Within thirty minutes, Evelyn Kingsley was officially stripped of her title, her security clearance was revoked, and her access to the corporate accounts was frozen. Julian and Gabriela were escorted out of the building by building security, their belongings packed into cardboard boxes while the entire office watched in hushed shock.
I walked out of the building into the bright morning sun, feeling a massive weight lifting off my shoulders. I called Esther immediately.
“It’s done,” I told her the moment she answered. “The company is ours. Evelyn is out.”
A soft, relieved sigh came through the line. “Thank god, Preston. Please, come home. I... I have a strange feeling. Someone’s been ringing the penthouse buzzer for the last ten minutes.”
My muscles tensed instantly. “Did you answer it?”
“No,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But I looked through the security camera. It’s a courier. He says he has an urgent legal delivery from your mother’s private estate.”
“Don't open the door, Esther. I’m on my way,” I said, running toward my car.
By the time I reached the 5th Avenue building, my heart was hammering against my ribs. I took the private elevator straight to the penthouse floor, my hand resting on the pocket knife in my jacket.
When the elevator doors slid open, the hallway was empty. The courier was gone, but taped to the heavy steel door of our apartment was a thick, yellow envelope.
I tore it off the wood, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, immediately locking it behind me. Esther rushed into my arms, hugging me tightly as if she was afraid I would disappear.
“Are you okay?” I asked, kissing the top of her head.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, looking at the envelope in my hand. “What is that?”
I walked over to the kitchen counter and sliced the envelope open. Inside was not a legal document. It was a single, old polaroid photograph and a handwritten note from my mother.
The photograph showed a small, rundown farmhouse in a rural part of upstate New York—the home where Esther’s elderly father, Thomas, lived alone. Standing near the front gate of the property was a large, dark SUV with tinted windows.
I opened the handwritten note. The elegant, cursive handwriting belonged unmistakably to Evelyn Kingsley.
Preston, You think you can take my empire and leave me with nothing? You forget where your little peasant came from. Her father’s farm sits on land that is currently leased under a Kingsley subsidiary. If you do not return the Vanguard patents and drop the SEC investigation by midnight, I will evict that old man, bulldoze that house, and ensure he spends his remaining years in a state facility. Choose wisely. Family is forever.
I slammed my fist onto the counter, the wood groaning under the impact. The sheer, unadulterated madness of my mother was boundless. She was a cornered animal, and she was willing to destroy an innocent, sick old man just to salvage her pride.
Esther reached for the photograph, her face draining of all color as she recognized her father’s home. “Preston... my dad. He has stage three lung cancer. He can't leave that house. The stress... the stress will kill him.”
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I looked into her panicked eyes and felt a dark, cold resolve settle over my soul. Evelyn Kingsley thought she was the only one who knew how to play dirty. But she had forgotten that I was a Kingsley too—and I had learned from the very best.
“Get your coat, Esther,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “We’re going to the farm. And I’m bringing the police.”
