Mark took a fast step forward, his eyes widening in sudden anxiety as he saw Hannah raise the phone to her ear. “Hannah, who are you calling?” he demanded, his voice dropping into a frantic whisper. “Stop playing games right now! Put the phone away!” But Hannah completely ignored him. She held the phone firmly against her ear, staring straight past Mark at the grand entrance gates of the estate where two dark security SUVs had just pulled up to the curb.
The phone rang once. Twice. Then a deep, quiet voice answered on the line. Hannah took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto Mark's father in the front row. The old billionaire shifted uncomfortably in his seat for the first time all day. “Dad...” Hannah said softly into the receiver, her voice carrying across the silent yard. Mark gasped, his face draining of all color as he stared at her in total confusion. He knew her adoptive parents had passed away years ago, leaving her alone in the world.
“It's time,” Hannah said simply into the phone. She did not explain. She did not complain about her torn dress or the insults. She just gave the short command and pressed the red button to end the call. A sudden electronic chime echoed from the main gates near the driveway. Mark stepped toward her, reaching out to grab her arm, but Hannah pushed his hand away with cold disgust. “Do not touch me,” she said plainly. “You made your choice when you stood there and watched her tear my dress.”
The heavy iron gates of the estate began to swing open slowly with a loud mechanical hum. Two large black executive SUVs rolled smoothly onto the gravel driveway, followed by three branded delivery vans carrying massive legal boxes. The guests turned around in their seats, whispering loudly as the vehicle doors opened simultaneously. Four men in expensive tailored grey suits stepped out, led by an elderly man with silver hair, wearing an immaculate coat and carrying a thick leather briefcase stamped with a golden crest.
Mark's father stood up quickly from his seat, his eyes locked on the silver-haired man. “What is Richard Sterling doing here?” the elder Mr. Vance muttered under his breath, his voice laced with sudden fear. Richard Sterling was the premier probate attorney in the entire state, famous for handling multi-billion-dollar corporate estates and private family trusts. He never appeared in person for minor disputes, and he certainly never attended public events without a major legal action underway.
Richard Sterling did not look at Mark or his father. He walked straight past the rows of high-society guests, his polished shoes crunching against the gravel. Two of his junior associates followed right behind him, holding digital tablets and thick stacks of sealed court documents. Sterling stopped right in front of Hannah, bowing his head slightly with profound respect. He pulled his silk handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. “I apologize for the delay, Miss Vance,” he said loudly enough for every guest to hear. “The probate court judge just signed the final order ten minutes ago.”