The live stream audience heard it.
The FBI agents monitoring the feed heard it.
Victoria smiled coldly.
“Mrs. Eleanor Drexler, I believe you were saying something about knowing one’s place in the world.”
The association president approached Eleanor.
“Ma’am, please return to your seat.”
But Eleanor couldn’t move.
She was watching her entire worldview crumble on stage in front of everyone who mattered to her.
Victoria wasn’t finished.
“Speaking of value, Josephine recently made a significant real estate investment—a stunning $4.8 million property in Malibu.”
The screen changed again.
The property deed appeared in full detail.
Owner: Drexler Consulting LLC.
Sole Member: Josephine Marie Drexler.
“That’s her house, not yours, Mrs. Drexler,” someone called out from the audience.
The voice belonged to Patricia Worthington, Eleanor’s own charity committee chair.
Victoria continued, her voice cutting through the murmurs.
“This property, purchased entirely with Josephine’s own funds, has been the subject of some confusion. Let me be clear: Josephine Drexler is the sole legal owner. No other Drexler has any claim to this property.”
Eleanor tried to leave the stage, but her path was blocked by two security guards who had quietly appeared.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” Eleanor said desperately into the still-live microphone. “My son Marcus purchased—”
“No, he didn’t.”
