Chapter 147 Taking Back Control
Charlotte：POV
"Charlotte!" She pointed at me accusingly, her face flushed with anger. "Are you insane? Mom is your stepmother! She took care of you after your mother died! She has rights to this house! Does Dad know about this?"
I turned to face her slowly, keeping my expression neutral. "David Grant doesn't get a say in Caldwell family matters. He married into this family. He doesn't own it."
Amy's fiancé—Samuel, I remembered his name now—appeared behind her, his expression carefully neutral. He started to open his mouth, probably to add his own condescending opinion, but then his eyes landed on Olivia standing behind me.
His mouth snapped shut. His face went pale.
Interesting. Apparently, Olivia's reputation preceded her.
Rachel cleared her throat politely, addressing Susan's guests with professional courtesy. "Ladies, I apologize for the interruption. The Caldwell family has some private matters to discuss today. We're grateful for your understanding and hope you'll excuse us."
Susan's friends gathered their purses and wraps with practiced efficiency, murmuring polite excuses while shooting curious glances at the drama unfolding before them. Within minutes, the sitting room had emptied.
Susan stood alone now, her face a mask of fury and disbelief. Amy hovered nearby, looking between her mother and me with growing panic.
Even Amy's fiancé Samuel was making excuses to leave. "Amy, I just remembered—I have an urgent meeting. Very urgent. I should—"
"Samuel, wait!" Amy grabbed his arm, trying to hold him back. "Don't go!"
He pulled free with surprising force. "Amy, I really do have something important. Very important." His eyes kept darting to Olivia like she was a bomb about to explode.
As Sean practically fled from the manor, Amy whirled on me, her face contorted with rage. "This is all your fault! Are you happy now? You've ruined everything! What is wrong with you, Charlotte?"
Susan stepped forward, pointing a manicured finger at me. "Charlotte, I'm telling you right now—if you think you can just waltz in here and kick me out, you're dreaming. This is my home. I've lived here for over a decade. Your father will be here any minute, and then—"
"Then what?" I moved closer to her, my voice dropping to a dangerous level. "Then David will protect you? Save you from the mean daughter who wants her mother's house back?"
I walked past her and sank into one of the velvet armchairs, crossing my legs with deliberate casualness. The security team remained standing in formation around the room's perimeter, silent and imposing. Rachel stood to my right, briefcase at the ready. Michael positioned himself slightly ahead of me, his eyes never leaving the room's entrances.
"You know what?" I continued, my tone almost conversational. "I think I'll wait right here for David to arrive. Should be entertaining."
Susan's hands were shaking now, whether from rage or fear, I couldn't tell. She pulled out her phone and started dialing frantically—first Paul, then David. Her voice rose with each call, growing more shrill and desperate.
Amy stood frozen, her eyes darting between her mother and me. For the first time since I'd known her, she looked genuinely uncertain.
The wait wasn't long. Less than ten minutes later, I heard the screech of tires on the driveway, followed by car doors slamming. Heavy footsteps thundered across the foyer.
David burst into the sitting room, Paul limping behind him. Paul had a nasty bruise blooming on his forehead where Michael had struck him earlier, and he was clutching his chest like it still hurt.
Susan immediately ran to David, tears streaming down her perfectly made-up face. "David! Look what she's doing! She brought all these people and she's trying to throw me out! In front of my friends! She's humiliated me!"
Amy joined in, her voice breaking. "Dad, she's gone crazy! She's saying Mom doesn't belong here!"
David's face was purple with rage as he stalked toward me. "Charlotte! What the hell do you think you're doing? Kicking out my wife? Making a scene? I'm your father—how dare you treat my family this way?"
I remained seated, keeping my expression calm. "The will states that this estate belongs to me. If you want to contest that, we can take it to court."
"Court?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think you can just sue your own father? After everything I've done for you? After I raised you?"
"You mean after you married my mother for her family's money?" I stood slowly, meeting his eyes. "After you brought your mistress into our home while my mother was dying? After you let your illegitimate children take over the Caldwell legacy while treating your actual daughter like garbage?"
The room went dead silent.
David's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Susan had gone pale. Even Amy looked shocked.
"That's right," I continued, my voice growing stronger. "I know everything. The affairs. The embezzlement. The way you've been systematically draining my mother's company while pretending to manage it for me."
Rachel stepped forward, pulling documents from her briefcase. "Mr. Grant, according to Emily Caldwell's will, all properties and assets were left to Charlotte Caldwell upon her thirtieth birthday, or earlier if she chose to claim them. Charlotte has chosen to exercise that right today."
She held up another document. "Furthermore, as Charlotte's legal guardian until she turned eighteen, you were required to provide annual financial reports detailing the management of her inheritance. We've found no such reports. That constitutes misappropriation of assets, which is well within the statute of limitations for litigation."
David's face went from purple to white. "Charlotte... you wouldn't actually sue me. I'm your father."
"We can discuss our father-daughter relationship," I said coldly, "after I've reclaimed all of my mother's assets. We're done here. In thirty minutes, I'll be conducting an inventory of the estate. You're welcome to stay and watch—or leave. Your choice."
I turned to walk away, but David lunged forward, his hand reaching for my arm.
Michael moved like lightning. One moment David was lunging, the next he was on the floor, Michael's hand on his wrist in a controlling grip that looked painful.
"Don't. Touch. Her." Michael's voice had an edge to it.
I looked down at David sprawling on the Persian rug, this man who'd controlled my life for so long, now helpless at my feet.
"Charlotte!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "You ungrateful little bitch! After everything I've done! You can't treat me like this! I'm your—"