Chapter 6 - The Rat in the Corner
Three days after the incident, the Caldwell family was trapped in a small, rented apartment on the outer edges of the city.
Victoria couldn't go to her local country club without being pointed at and asked to leave by security. Chloe’s university had suspended her sorority leadership position pending an ethics investigation into cyberbullying and domestic harassment.
They were broke, disgraced, and desperate.
“We have to fight back!” Victoria raged, throwing a cheap porcelain cup against the wall. “She ruined our lives! She set us up, Nathan! She knew you were going to burn that paper! She baited you!”
“It doesn't matter if she baited me!” Nathan screamed back, his eyes bloodshot, his beard unkempt. “The whole world saw me do it! The legal team she hired has blocked every maneuver I try to make! If I go to court, the judge will tear me apart!”
Chloe sat in the corner, staring at her laptop. “Nathan... look at this.”
Nathan walked over reluctantly. On the screen was a news article detailing Vance Global’s upcoming quarterly gala—a high-society event where Clara was scheduled to make her first public appearance as the official CEO of the corporation.
“She’s going to be there,” Chloe whispered, a dark look in her eyes. “With all the media, all the investors, all the city’s elite. If we go there... if we publicly apologize, drop to our knees in front of the press, and beg her for mercy, she’ll have to give in to save her public image. High-society women hate looking heartless!”
Victoria’s eyes lit up with desperate greed. “Yes! A public reconciliation! If we make a huge show of repentance in front of the cameras, she’ll be forced to forgive us or look like a vindictive villain!”
Nathan stared at the screen. A toxic wave of desperation swept over him. He didn't want to apologize—he wanted his life back. He wanted his status, his money, and his pride.
“No,” Nathan said, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “We don't beg. We force her hand.”
“What do you mean?” Victoria asked, startled.
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Nathan pulled a small USB drive from his pocket. “Before she froze my access, I managed to download the personal financial archives of the late Henry Vance. There are confidential tax structures in here from ten years ago. If I threaten to leak these to the press right before she takes the stage at the gala, she’ll have no choice but to drop the lawsuits and give me a twenty-million-dollar settlement.”
He thought he was being brilliant. He didn't know that every file on that USB drive was a honeypot trap laid by Julian Thorne two months ago.
