My Domination Begins With A Divorce

45

Chapter 45: The Promenade Buyout

The shrill demand echoed through the high ceilings of Maison de L’Or, freezing the boutique staff in their tracks.

Monsieur Duval puffed his chest out, desperate to prove his absolute loyalty to the Drake family name. He turned toward the private intercom console mounted beside the archway and pressed the red security toggle with violent force.

Within ten seconds, the heavy glass doors opened, admitting four private gallerie security guards wearing gray tactical blazers, heavy leather duty belts, and holstered stun batons.

Duval pointed an accusing finger at Ethan and the frightened girl hiding behind his coat. "Officers, remove this man and this vagrant from our floor immediately. Mademoiselle Drake's family holds a premier commercial line with this establishment, and their presence is an intolerable offense to our premier clientele."

Camilla Drake crossed her arms over her red wool coat, a cruel, triumphant smirk pulling at the corners of her lips as she inspected her polished fingernails. "Throw their dirty shopping bags into the street gutter, Duval. Especially that child's sketchbooks. Let them see what happens when street trash tries to play in the halls of real wealth."

Ada's fingers tightened around Ethan's wool lapel, her breath catching in her throat as she looked up at the four guards approaching with their batons drawn.

"Ethan, please," Ada whispered softly, tears welling in the corners of her hazel eyes. "We can go. I do not need the paints. Let us go back to Oakhaven."

Ethan dropped down onto one knee before his sister, taking her small, trembling hands within his own.

His midnight-blue eyes softened with infinite, protective warmth as he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. "Listen to me, Ada. You will never lower your head to cruel people, and you will never run away from what is rightfully yours. The world does not belong to bullies, little bird. It belongs to the honest."

Ethan stood upright, turning his back on the frightened child to shield her completely from the guards.

The warmth that had filled Ethan's face vanished instantly, replaced by the cold, immovable gravity of an absolute monarch inspecting a ditch.

The boutique doors chimed softly, and Alaric stepped into the salon from the sunlit courtyard of the promenade. The senior executive carried his silver-crooked walking stick in his left hand, his posture straight as an iron pillar, while under his right arm he held an encrypted satellite tablet bound in dark blue leather.

Ethan did not look at Duval, nor did he acknowledge the four guards stepping toward his perimeter.

"Alaric," Ethan spoke, his voice calm, clear, and quiet.

"Yes, Young Master," Alaric replied, stepping forward two paces and bowing his head with disciplined respect.

"Who owns the real estate parcel of the Imperial Gallerie, and who holds the operating equity of Maison de L’Or?" Ethan asked.

Alaric unlocked the glowing glass screen of his encrypted terminal, scrolling through the corporate registries with fluid precision. "The Imperial Gallerie parcel and its sixty-four premier commercial retail leases are held by the Grandview Commercial Property Trust, a wholly owned domestic asset of European Retail Holdings in Paris. Sovereign Global's private equity desk acquired seventy-two percent of their senior collateralized debt debentures four months ago."

Ethan adjusted the cuffs of his dark shirt with slow, deliberate precision.

"Exercise the debt conversion covenants immediately, Alaric," Ethan commanded softly. "Execute a total equity swap for the retail trust and the underlying commercial parcel. Pay the remaining equity float in liquid cash settled through our Zurich clearing house. Give them three minutes."

Duval stared at Ethan for three stunned seconds before throwing his head back in a fit of hysterical, mocking laughter that echoed across the stone floor.

"Buy the Imperial Gallerie?" Duval scoffed, slapping his thigh in theatrical disbelief as he looked at Camilla Drake for approval. "This historic promenade is valued at two hundred and eighty million dollars by the municipal commerce guild! Do you genuinely believe pulling out a black piece of metal and mumbling to an old butler in front of my security guards will intimidate this establishment?"

Camilla snickered, leaning against the counter while twirling a gold necklace between her fingers. "The beggar has truly lost his mind, Duval. He probably stole that leather tablet from a hotel lobby. Officers, use your batons and clear this lunatic out."

Before the lead security guard could take two steps across the white marble, a piercing, mechanical ring shattered the air.

Mounted behind the cash counter, the red direct-wire emergency telephone began to buzz with a violent, uninterrupted cadence that caused the sales associates to jump in surprise. That particular line was hardwired directly to the international headquarters in France, used only for catastrophic corporate alerts or sovereign regulatory interventions.

Duval frowned, his thin mustache twitching in annoyance as he stepped behind the desk. "Excuse me for five seconds, Mademoiselle Drake. Let me silence this nuisance before we enjoy your gown fitting."

Duval picked up the heavy ivory handset, pressing it to his ear with an arrogant smirk. "Maison de L’Or Grandview branch, Director Duval speaking."

"Duval, you blundering, illiterate i***t!" a voice roared through the receiver.

The speaker volume was so deafening that the furious French baritone resonated across the entire quiet boutique, causing the four security guards to freeze in their tracks.

"Monsieur Laurent?" Duval stammered, his face turning pale as he recognized the voice of Jean-Paul Laurent, the supreme European Managing Director of the luxury conglomerate in Paris. "Sir, I am currently attending to an urgent VIP private consultation with the Drake family—"

"Shut your mouth, Duval!" Laurent screamed over the line, coughing with raw, breathless panic. "The Paris clearing desk was bypassed three minutes ago! An anonymous sovereign institution executed a forced debt conversion and bought one hundred percent of our corporate shares in liquid bullion! The transaction cleared through the Swiss Interbank Registry, and our entire international board of directors has been officially dissolved!"

Duval's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The blood drained completely from his cheeks, leaving his skin the sickly color of curdled milk.

"B... Bought the entire company, sir?" Duval choked out, his fingers trembling so violently that the ivory plastic rattled against his teeth. "Who... who bought us?"

"The sole owner of Sovereign Global!" Laurent bellowed, his voice cracking into sheer despair. "The legal title was registered to Mr. Ethan Sterling, and our satellite dispatch confirms the Chairman is standing inside your salon this exact second! If you offend him by a single syllable, Duval, our legal directors will dismantle your life until you are begging for bread in the gutter!"

The international connection severed with an empty, hollow click.

Duval stood completely paralyzed behind the marble desk. The heavy ivory handset slipped from his numb fingers, crashing onto the wooden cash drawer with a dull thud before dangling by its coiled cord.

Camilla Drake frowned, tapping her foot in rising irritation. "Duval, what was that screaming on the telephone? Why are your guards standing around like statues? I told you to throw this beggar into the street!"

Duval slowly raised his head. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and glazed with total, paralyzing horror.

His knees gave out entirely. Duval collapsed over the mahogany counter, tumbling onto the marble floor with a concussive thud, scrambling forward on his hands and knees until his forehead was pressed flat against the polished stone before Ethan's shoes.

"Chairman Sterling!" Duval sobbed, tears and cold sweat cutting clean lines down his powdered cheeks as he clawed at the grout between the tiles. "Mercy, sir! Please have mercy! I did not know! I swear on my sacred honor as a merchant, I did not know who you were!"

Camilla froze, her mouth falling open in raw, disbelieving shock as she watched the haughty boutique director grovel in the dust like a beaten dog. "Duval? What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"

Ethan did not look down at the blubbering director. He kept his cold gaze fixed on Camilla Drake, speaking with the clinical detachment of an executioner pronouncing a sentence.

"You are terminated, Duval," Ethan said, his voice quiet and deadly. "You have sixty seconds to empty your desk, surrender your store keys, and exit this building through the basement sewer drainage culvert."

Duval gasped for breath, his forehead banging against the marble in desperate repentance. "Chairman, please! I have a family! I have three children attending the provincial academy! Please do not ruin my life!"

"Sixty seconds," Ethan repeated without shifting his tone by a fraction of a millimeter.

Ethan turned his cool, terrifying gaze toward the four security guards who were standing frozen with their batons half-raised, their faces pale as parchment as they realized who held the deed to the ground beneath their boots.

"Your employment covenants transfer to Sovereign Global effective this second," Ethan commanded the guards. "Mademoiselle Camilla Drake and her entire family are permanently blacklisted from every boutique, salon, and commercial registry in the Imperial Gallerie."

Ethan pointed a single finger toward the heavy service door at the rear of the shop.

"Confiscate her shopping bags, revoke her platinum line, and escort this woman out of my building through the rear service alley behind the trash compactors."

The four security guards did not hesitate for a single fraction of a second. They lowered their batons, pivoted their boots in disciplined unison, and surrounded Camilla Drake with cold, immovable aggression.