“There is a reporter sitting in my lobby right now,” he shouted.

“That has nothing to do with me,” I said.

“They are asking about the house,” he said. “They have photos of the flatbeds leaving the neighborhood.”

I heard a muffled sob in the background of his call.

It sounded like Valerie.

“They’re calling it the ‘Ghost House of Westlake Hills,'” Richard said, his voice cracking. “The tech syndicate just pulled their account. A ten-million-dollar contract, gone.”

I pulled the car over into a grocery store parking lot and turned off the engine.

“You brought this on yourself,” I said quietly.

“We had an agreement!” he yelled.

“No, you had a plan to take my father’s land,” I said. “I simply took back what belonged to me.”

“You ruined me,” he whispered. “The board is calling an emergency meeting. They want me to step down.”

“Goodbye, Richard,” I said, and disconnected the call.

Chloe looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and pride.

“Is Dad really losing his company?” she asked.