Chapter 6 - Default Notice
The second-floor executive boardroom was lined with dark walnut paneling and smelled of polished leather and beeswax. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the private golf course stretched out into the night, bathed in the silver glow of the moon.
Thomas Vance-Keller placed the heavy legal folders onto the glass conference table with a dull thud.
Arthur stood in the center of the room, looking frantically between Harper, Thomas, and me. The arrogance had completely drained from his face, replaced by a chaotic, twitching confusion.
"Victoria... what is this?" Arthur demanded, his voice rising in pitch. "Who are these people? Why did she call you Ms. Sterling?"
Richard and Eleanor came rushing into the boardroom, out of breath, having seen Arthur lead us upstairs. Chloe followed closely behind, chewing gum, looking annoyed that she had been dragged away from the party.
"Arthur!" Eleanor gasped, clutching her throat. "What’s happening? Did they sign the standstill?"
Richard’s eyes landed on Thomas Vance-Keller, and the old man literally stumbled backward against the doorframe, his skin turning the color of wet chalk.
"Thomas?" Richard croaked, his voice trembling. "Thomas Keller? What... what are you doing here? You represent Blackwood?"
"No, Richard," Thomas said coldly, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "I do not represent Blackwood Capital. I represent Sterling Horizon Holdings, the sole parent company of Blackwood Capital."
Eleanor blinked, her painted eyebrows knotting in confusion. "Sterling Horizon? But... that’s a global private equity group. They own five billion in commercial real estate! Why would they send their chief counsel to a local country club meeting?"
"Because their Chairman and Chief Executive Officer requested my presence," Thomas said simply.
He didn't gesture toward Harper.
He gestured toward me.
The room fell into a silence so absolute that the hum of the air conditioning sounded like an engine.
Arthur looked at me, then down at my hands, then back to my face. A grotesque, nervous laugh bubbled up from his throat. "Wait. No. Stop. This is a joke, right? Victoria, what kind of sick game is this? You run Sterling Strategy Group. A consulting firm! You work for clients!"
"Sterling Strategy Group is a wholly owned subsidiary of Sterling Horizon, Arthur," I said, my voice smooth, calm, and terrifyingly clear. "It is my corporate advisory arm. I don't work for clients. I acquire them."
"You're lying!" Chloe shrieked from the doorway. "She’s lying! Look at her! She drove a four-year-old Audi when you met her, Arthur! She didn't even have a designer handbag!"
"I drove an Audi because I don't need a sports car to validate my self-worth, Chloe," I said, turning my eyes to her. "And I don't carry logos because I own the companies that make them."
Richard fell into the nearest leather armchair, his chest heaving, his hands shaking violently. "No... no, no, no. Victoria Ross... Ross was your mother’s name. Victoria Sterling. The granddaughter of Robert Sterling."
"You remember my grandfather, Richard?" I asked, walking slowly around the conference table. "Of course you do. Thirty years ago, when Vance Hospitality was just three regional motels, your father begged Robert Sterling for a two-million-dollar unsecured loan to avoid bankruptcy. My grandfather gave it to him on a handshake. And the moment he passed away, your father used a loophole in the corporate charter to default on the interest payments and cheat my family out of our equity."
Richard’s mouth opened and closed like a fish suffocating on dry land. "That... that was business. That was thirty years ago!"
"And this is business tonight," I replied.
Arthur stepped toward me, his eyes wild, his fists clenching at his sides. "You married me! You signed the marriage certificate! You slept in my bed! You let me bring you into my family! You played me!"
"I didn't play you, Arthur," I said, stopping directly across the table from him. "When I met you at that gallery in Chicago, I knew Vance Hospitality was swimming in debt. I knew Blackwood held your notes. But I was curious. I wanted to see if the current generation of Vances had any honor, any decency, any redemption worth saving before I decided whether to restructure your loans or liquidate your assets."
I reached up with one hand and slowly, deliberately wiped away the heavy foundation covering my left cheekbone.
The dark purple, swollen bruise stood out in sharp, grotesque contrast against my pale skin under the bright halogen conference lights.
Eleanor gasped, taking a step back.
"Less than forty-eight hours after we said our vows," I whispered, the words cutting through the room like a razor, "you struck me in front of your family because I asked your sister to wash a dish."
Arthur’s eyes darted to Harper, then to Thomas, terror finally clawing its way up his throat. "Victoria... that was... we had an argument! Every couple argues! It was a stressful morning! You can't destroy a family business over a domestic argument!"
"A domestic argument?" I echoed softly. "You called it a correction, Arthur. You told me to learn my place. You told me your sister was family, and I was just the wife."
I nodded to Harper.
Harper opened her leather briefcase, pulled out a tablet, and tapped the screen. She set it on the center of the table and slid it toward Richard and Eleanor.
On the screen was the crystal-clear 4K security footage from the Vance Manor kitchen.
There was the sound of the lake breeze outside the window. There was my voice: *"Chloe, could you wash the dishes when you're finished?"*
And then came the sharp, sickening *crack* of Arthur’s hand striking my face.
The audio captured everything. Arthur’s snarling voice: *"How dare you tell my sister what to do? She’s my family. You are the wife. Learn your place."*
It captured Chloe pouring the coffee onto the marble floor with that vicious little sneer: *"Clean that too."*
It captured Eleanor calmly buttering her toast. It captured Richard turning his newspaper.
"Those cameras," Eleanor whimpered, her hands flying to her mouth, tears of pure horror finally spilling down her cheeks. "You said... you said they belonged to you..."
"The estate’s integrated security infrastructure was upgraded six months ago," Harper said in a monotone voice. "Funded via a capital improvement grant issued by Blackwood Capital. Under Section 9 of the security agreement, all telemetry, video feeds, and audio logs are the proprietary intellectual property of Sterling Horizon Holdings. We own the cameras. We own the servers. We own every second of your cruelty."
Arthur lunged toward the table, his face twisted in madness, reaching for the tablet. "Delete it! Delete it right now!"
Before he could touch it, two large men in dark charcoal suits—my private executive protection detail—stepped through the boardroom doors, moving with silent, terrifying precision. One of them caught Arthur’s arm, twisting it behind his back and forcing him down onto his knees against the mahogany floor.
"Get off me!" Arthur screamed, thrashing against the operative’s grip. "Victoria! Tell them to get off me! I’m your husband!"
May you like
"Not for much longer," I said.
***
