Chapter 8 - The Queens Exile
By noon, Mason’s personal effects had indeed arrived at a modest, third-floor walk-up apartment in Astoria, Queens—the very neighborhood he had sworn to escape a decade ago.
He stood in the center of the cramped, dust-moted living room, staring at three cardboard boxes stacked neatly against the radiator. There were no designer suits, no custom Italian leather shoes, and no smart-home automated lighting. Just a few basic changes of clothes, an old laptop, and a framed photograph of himself and Emily from their wedding day in a small chapel in Queens before the money, before the betrayal, and before the empire.
His cell phone buzzed violently on the coffee table.
Mason snatched it up, hoping against hope that it was Emily’s legal team calling with an offer of mediation.
Instead, it was Camille.
"Mason? Where are you?" Camille’s voice came through the speaker, high-pitched, frantic, and dripping with thinly veiled panic. "I tried to get into your Black Amex card to book a flight to Miami, and it was declined! The front desk at my building is saying my lease isn't being renewed because the corporate backing was canceled! What is happening?!"
Mason let out a harsh, bitter laugh that sounded more like a cough. "It's over, Camille. The company's frozen, the investors are gone, and my wife has locked us out of everything."
A sharp intake of breath echoed on the other end of the line. "What do you mean, us? I didn't build this empire, you did! Go talk to her! Sue her! File for emergency marital asset division!"
"With what money, Camille?!" Mason shouted, his voice cracking with fury as he slammed his fist against the cheap drywall. "I have zero access to liquid capital! Every account is tied up in a court-mandated freeze pending a forensic audit!"
A heavy silence hung on the line for three seconds.
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"Don't call me until you figure this out," Camille snapped, and the line went dead with a sharp click.
Mason dropped his phone onto the worn-out sofa and buried his face in his hands, finally tasting the bitter ash of everything he had thrown away.
