Less than an hour later, the front doors of the Croft Estate were thrown open. A team of private security guards–men loyal to Alistair, not the family–stood waiting by the curb.
William carried two suitcases. Victoria followed him, holding Leo tight against her chest. They had left behind the heirlooms, the art, and the history. They took only clothes and Leo’s favorite plush dog.
Alistair stood on the top step of the portico, looking down at them like a monarch banishing peasants. Lady Beatrice stood behind him in the shadows, a prisoner of her own lies.
“You have one hour to vacate the city premises as well,” Alistair called out, his voice carrying over the wind. “Your company credit cards have been canceled. Your access to the corporate fleet is revoked.”
William turned back, his jaw set. “This isn’t over, Alistair. You can steal the title, but you can’t kill the truth.”
Alistair laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “Truth is a luxury for those who can afford good lawyers, son. And you are bankrupt.” He gestured to the gate. “Go. Traitors don’t get to live in the castle.”.