Chapter 7 - The Unmasking
Thomas Vance-Keller stepped forward and opened the second manila folder, sliding three distinct sets of documents across the glass table.
"First document," Thomas announced, his voice ringing with judicial finality. "Notice of Acceleration and Demand for Immediate Payment. As of 8:00 AM tomorrow, Sterling Horizon Holdings is calling the full balance of the mezzanine facility—forty-two million, eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In the absence of immediate payment in cleared funds, the sheriff’s department will execute an order of possession on Vance Manor, the Chicago penthouse, and the corporate headquarters."
"No," Richard sobbed, collapsing forward against the table, his forehead resting against the cold glass. "Please. God, please, Thomas. Not the manor. My grandfather built that house."
"Your grandfather built it with stolen money, Richard," I said without an ounce of pity. "Second document, Thomas."
"Second document," Thomas continued. "Petition for Annulment on the grounds of fraud and immediate application for an emergency protective order. Mr. Arthur Vance will be prohibited from coming within one thousand yards of Ms. Sterling, her properties, or her corporate entities."
Arthur looked up from the floor, his cheek pressed against the wood, tears of rage and humiliation streaming down his face. "An annulment? You think you can just erase our marriage? I’m entitled to half of everything you have! We didn't sign a prenuptial agreement! You were so desperate to be loved that you didn't even make me sign a prenup!"
A cold, bitter smile touched my lips.
"I didn't make you sign a prenuptial agreement, Arthur, because I didn't need one," I said. "Every single asset I own—every stock, every property, every dollar—is held within a multi-generational irrevocable trust established by Robert Sterling thirty-five years ago. I am merely the sole beneficiary and managing director. Under Illinois state law, assets held within an irrevocable trust prior to the date of marriage are strictly excluded from marital property. You have no claim to Sterling Horizon. You have no claim to my money. You don't even have a claim to the shirt on your back, because Sterling Horizon paid for the credit line that bought your tuxedo."
Arthur’s thrashing stopped. His eyes went blank, hollowed out by the sudden, crushing reality of his absolute poverty.
"And the third document?" Eleanor whispered, trembling so violently she had to hold onto the back of Chloe’s chair.
"The third document is the criminal referral," Thomas said, turning a cold gaze onto Arthur. "Fourteen months of forensic accounting records demonstrating that Mr. Arthur Vance systematically embezzled eight hundred and forty thousand dollars from the Vance Hospitality marketing budget to settle private gambling debts with an unlicensed sports betting ring operating out of Crown Point, Indiana."
"You... you knew?" Arthur gasped, the breath knocked out of his lungs.
"I knew three weeks before our wedding, Arthur," I said. "I wanted to see if you would tell me the truth. I gave you every opportunity. When we sat by the lake on our wedding night, I asked you if there was anything troubling you, anything you needed to share with your partner. Do you remember what you said?"
Arthur didn't answer. He couldn't.
"You told me that women shouldn't worry their pretty heads about money," I said. "You told me that your family had everything under control."
"Victoria," Eleanor cried, dropping to her knees beside her son, crawling toward me across the carpet until my security guards stepped forward to block her. "Please! Have mercy! He’s young! He made a mistake! If he goes to prison, our family name will be destroyed! The shame... the shame will kill Richard!"
"Your family name was destroyed the moment you allowed your son to raise his hand against a woman and went back to buttering your toast, Eleanor," I said, looking down at her with pure disgust. "You sat there. You watched him strike me. And you told me to learn my place."
I turned to Chloe, who was standing paralyzed against the wall, her phone clutched in her hand, tears ruining her heavy mascara.
"And you, Chloe," I said. "You told me to clean the coffee off the floor."
"I... I was joking," Chloe choked out, her voice squeaking in terror. "I swear, Victoria, I was just playing around! Arthur told me you were trying to take over the house! He told me you were bossing everyone around! I’m sorry! Please don't take our house!"
"Maria has worked for your family for twelve years, hasn't she?" I asked.
Chloe blinked, completely unable to process the question. "What?"
"The housekeeper. Maria. The woman you snapped your fingers at this morning. She has worked for your family for twelve years, six days a week, making twenty-two dollars an hour with no health insurance. When she asked for a raise last Christmas to pay for her daughter’s insulin, your mother fired her sister out of spite."
Eleanor froze, her face turning pale.
"Maria will not be cleaning your mess anymore, Chloe," I said softly. "Tomorrow morning at nine, Sterling Horizon takes ownership of Vance Manor. You will have three hours to pack your personal clothing. Anything purchased with company credit lines will remain in the house. And Maria? Maria has just been appointed head of estate management for Sterling Horizon’s regional properties, with a starting salary of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars and full benefits."
"You can't do this!" Arthur screamed from the floor, his voice breaking into a ragged, pathetic sob. "You’re a monster! You’re a cold-hearted, calculating bitch!"
"No, Arthur," I said, taking one step closer and looking down into his ruined, tear-stained face. "I am simply the woman who asked your sister to wash her dishes."
The heavy boardroom doors clicked open once more.
Two uniformed officers from the Oakridge Police Department stepped inside, accompanied by a plainclothes detective with a gold shield clipped to his belt.
"Arthur Vance?" the detective asked, looking around the room before his eyes settled on the man pinned to the carpet.
"Yes," Thomas Keller said, handing the detective a certified copy of the kitchen surveillance recording and the medical report Harper had arranged earlier that afternoon. "This is Mr. Vance. We are filing charges for domestic battery, aggravated assault, and corporate embezzlement. The video evidence and supporting affidavits are in this binder."
The detective looked down at the tablet, still playing the looped footage of Arthur’s hand striking my face. His jaw set in a hard, grim line.
May you like
"Cuff him," the detective ordered.
***
