Margarethe’s desperation quickly twisted back into pure rage. Realizing she had lost her legal shield, she abandoned her fake polite act completely. She threw her glass of iced tea onto the pristine floor, letting it shatter into small pieces against the marble tile. The brown liquid splashed everywhere, soaking the hem of her red silk dress.
"You ungrateful brat!" Margarethe screamed, her voice shrill and echoing wildly off the high ceilings. "I gave two years of my life taking care of your sick, dying father while you were off playing businessman in Europe! I deserve every single penny in those accounts! I earned this house! I earned this money! You think you can just walk in here with a piece of paper and throw me out? I will fight you in court until you don't have a single dime left!"
She took a step toward David, her face contorted with anger, her sharp manicured fingernails raised as if she intended to scratch his face. But David didn't flinch. He didn't move a single inch. He stood like a brick wall, his eyes fixed on her with cold, unwavering contempt.
"Touch me, and I will have the security team outside arrest you for assault right now," David said, his voice quiet, calm, and terrifyingly cold. "You didn't care for my father. You isolated him from his friends, you fired his personal doctor, and you tried to starve out the people who actually cared about him. I have security camera footage from the hallway upstairs, Margarethe. I saw how you treated Martha when you thought nobody was watching."
Margarethe froze, her arm stopping mid-air. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. "Camera footage? What camera footage?"
"My father installed hidden security cameras in the common areas five years ago for safety," David explained, his voice flat and unyielding. "I reviewed the footage last night. I watched you scream at Martha for twenty minutes yesterday because she didn't polish your shoes fast enough. I saw you push her shoulder against the wall. I saw you intentionally spill coffee on the floor just so you could watch her get on her knees to scrub it clean. You didn't just misuse money, Margarethe. You engaged in systematic physical and emotional abuse of an elderly employee."
Martha covered her mouth with her hands, sobbing quietly into Sarah's shoulder. "I was so scared, David," Martha sobbed softly. "She said if I told anyone, she would make sure I went to jail for stealing her jewelry."
David looked over at Martha, his expression softening for a brief second. "She can't hurt you anymore, Martha. I promise you that." He turned back to Margarethe, his face hardening back into ice. "You have five minutes to grab your personal clothes and get off my property. If you are still standing in this foyer in three hundred seconds, I will have the Dallas Police Department remove you in handcuffs for criminal trespass and grand larceny."
Margarethe looked around desperately, hoping to find someone to take her side. She looked at Sarah, but Sarah glared back at her with fierce, unyielding anger. She looked at Martha, who was sitting upright now, supported by David's strong presence. There was no one left to manipulate. The power dynamic had completely flipped, leaving Margarethe utterly isolated in the middle of the giant mansion she had tried so hard to steal.
"You can't do this to me!" Margarethe shrieked, tears of rage smearing her dark eye makeup. "I am Mrs. Vance! This is my house!"
"You're done, Margarethe," David said cold and definitively. "YOU'RE DONE."
He turned away sharply, stepping past her to grab the wooden handle of the mop leaning against the wall. But as he turned, Margarethe lunged forward in a fit of hysterical fury, reaching out to grab his suit jacket. "Don't you turn your back on me!" she screamed.