“I’m not letting strangers walk in and inventory her life because two executives are fighting over codes.”
Celeste held his gaze.
“They will not take this property tomorrow.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
She thought.
Then removed her phone.
Called someone.
Put it on speaker.
A woman answered.
“Celeste?”
“Mara.”
“I need an emergency restraining instruction issued against all physical possession activity related to Harper Auto & Machine.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Legal basis?”
“Potential fraud.”
Silence.
“That serious?”
“Very.”
“I’ll need outside counsel.”
“Wake them.”
“Court?”
“If necessary.”
“Christmas Eve.”
“Mara.”
“I heard you.”
The lawyer exhaled.
“Give me thirty minutes.”
Celeste ended the call.
She looked at Owen.
“That’s how.”
He stared.
“Your lawyer sounds tired.”
“She bills accordingly.”
Owen almost smiled.
Celeste moved toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Merry Christmas, Owen.”
He looked toward the tiny tree.
“Doesn’t feel like one.”
“Not yet.”
She left.
At 7:42 Christmas morning, three black tow trucks rolled into Harper Auto & Machine.
Owen saw them through the upstairs kitchen window.
Ellie was opening the model-aircraft kit.
Her scream of happiness died when she saw his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Dad.”
“Stay upstairs.”
He pulled on jeans and boots.
Went down.
Outside, snow had stopped.
Three men stepped from the trucks.
A fourth vehicle arrived behind them.
White SUV.
A man in a camel coat climbed out carrying a tablet.
“Owen Harper?”
“Yes.”
“Vale North Asset Services.”
Owen laughed once.
“Merry Christmas.”
The man looked uncomfortable.
“We have a possession authorization.”
“No, you don’t.”
He showed a screen.
“Active.”
Owen’s stomach tightened.
“Your CEO canceled it.”
The man blinked.
“Sir—”
“I spoke to Celeste Vale last night.”
That got a reaction.
Not belief.
But uncertainty.
The man said:
“I can only follow the system.”
Owen stepped between him and the garage.
“System can wait.”
“We need access.”
“No.”
“Mr. Harper.”
“No.”
Two neighbors had begun watching from across the road.
A snowplow driver slowed.
Then a black sedan came around the corner too fast.
It stopped sideways near the tow trucks.
Celeste got out.
No burgundy fur.
No designer sunglasses.
Black wool coat.
Hair tied back.
She looked furious.
Behind her came another SUV carrying two lawyers.
The collections manager froze.
“Ms. Vale.”
Celeste walked toward him.
“What are you doing?”