Chapter 8 - The Excommunication
Raymond stopped on the step directly below his sister. He looked at her with a gaze devoid of any brotherly affection—only the cold, uncompromising judgment of a patriarch who had discovered a traitor within his own house.
"Elena gave my son happiness," Raymond said, his voice trembling with deep, suppressed rage. "She gave him a son. She gave this family a future. You gave us greed, deceit, and cruelty."
Raymond turned to his attorney without looking back at Beatrice.
"David."
"Yes, Raymond?"
"Execute the emergency protocol in Liam's master trust," Raymond ordered coldly. "Strip Beatrice of all signing authority across every Mercer entity, terminate her access to the Long Island estate immediately, and hand this file directly to the District Attorney's office."
Beatrice’s eyes widened in horror. "The District Attorney?! Raymond, you can't put your own sister in prison! Think of the press! Think of our family name!"
"You stopped being my sister the moment you put my grandson and his mother on a metal bench at JFK with three worn suitcases," Raymond replied, his voice ringing with absolute, final authority.
He turned his back on her, walking down the stone steps toward Elena and Leo.
Two tall, stern-faced private security officers who had been stationed at the estate gate stepped onto the staircase, standing on either side of Beatrice.
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"Miss Mercer," the senior officer said firmly. "You have ten minutes to collect your personal items from the guest house. We will escort you off the property."
Beatrice broke down into hysterical, humiliated tears as she was led away down the side portal of the estate, her cream-colored suit rumpled, her arrogance completely shattered.
