Chapter 30 - The Siege in the Snow
Before Marcus could kick the door in, voices began rising from the street.
The owner of the hardware store next door, clutching a heavy iron wrench, stepped off his porch into the snow. Behind him came Mrs. Higgins from the floral shop, and four burly mechanics from the garage down the road. Within minutes, over twenty local townspeople had formed a tight, protective semicircle around the bakery entrance, blocking Marcus and his guards.
"You’re on private property, Sterling," the hardware owner growled, pointing his wrench at Marcus’s chest. "Take your goons and get back to your tower."
Marcus sneered, looking around at the gathering crowd with undisguised contempt. "You ignorant peasants have no idea how the law works. By tomorrow noon, this entire block will belong to the Sterling Corporation. Every single one of you will receive eviction notices before sunset!"
"Not while I breathe," Clara’s voice rang out clear and cold as she stepped onto the bakery porch, flanked by Emma and Carol.
Marcus stopped dead, his face darkening with rage. "Clara, get in the car. You don't know what you're doing. You're violating the terms of our representation."
"I revoke the power of attorney," Clara declared, her voice ringing out across the snow-covered street for every neighbor to hear. "I revoked it thirty minutes ago via certified email to Judge Morales’s clerk. I am not Arthur Vance’s heir, Marcus. And I will not be your pawn to starve an entire valley."
Marcus glared at her, his jaw working furiously. "You think you can just walk away? You signed binding affidavits in Zurich! If you back out now, my father will bankrupt you with perjury suits before you make it back to Boston!"
"Let him try," I stepped forward, holding Lily’s hand tightly. "Because tomorrow morning, we aren't just presenting Arthur’s will. We are presenting a court-ordered DNA subpoena for Richard Sterling. Let’s see what the federal judge thinks when she finds out who Clara’s real father is."
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Marcus hissed an oath, signaling his guards to back off. They climbed into their black SUV and sped away into the gathering night, tires spinning wildly on the icy asphalt.
The crowd of neighbors let out a triumphant cheer, but as I looked back at Carol and Clara, I knew our battle wasn't won yet. Richard Sterling had too much money, too many judges in his pocket, and forty-eight hours was running out fast.