Chapter 5 - The Architect Emerges
Two weeks later, the glass doors of *Sullivan Design & Infrastructure* opened on the thirty-fourth floor of the Chrysler Building.
The firm had existed on paper for five years, an inactive shell Dominic had maintained in case I ever chose to return to the profession I loved. Now, its brass lettering gleamed under recessed halogen lighting, and fifty young, brilliant architectural associates and urban planners were already filling the workstations.
For the first time in six years, I sat at my own drafting table, looking out over the city skyline. Stella sat in the corner of my expansive corner office, happily coloring in a large sketchbook with a set of seventy-two professional Prismacolor markers Dominic had brought her from London. Her laughter, clear and bright, echoed off the glass walls.
The healing process for a six-year-old was slow, but with her father completely removed from our orbit, her nightmares had begun to fade. She knew that Daddy had made bad choices, that he was gone, and that Mommy was an architect who drew real skyscrapers.
A quiet knock sounded at my door. Reynolds stepped inside, carrying an iPad.
"Miss Victoria," he said respectfully. "The municipal redevelopment committee has officially rescinded Horizon Prime’s master permit for the Hudson Riverfront project following their ongoing forensic audit. The mayor’s office has issued an emergency Request for Proposals to salvage the project before federal infrastructure funding expires."
"And the Astervons?" I asked, setting down my drafting pencil.
"Robert Astervon sold forty percent of his company's operational assets at a sixty percent discount to Sullivan Capital yesterday to stave off bankruptcy," Reynolds replied with a faint, satisfied smirk. "Bianca has left the country for their villa in southern Italy, though European process servers are currently attempting to locate her regarding the fraud investigation. Richard Vance’s public defender attempted to reach out to our legal department this morning."
"His public defender?" I raised an eyebrow. "He couldn't retain private counsel?"
"Every firm in the tri-state area refused representation once they saw the Sullivan legal team listed as the complaining witness," Reynolds said. "He is currently residing in a transient residential hotel in Queens. He has filed three emergency motions for spousal maintenance in family court."
"Have Arthur handle the court filings," I said calmly. "Ensure every penny of child support he legally owes is calculated and entered as a judgment against any future earnings he ever makes. But let him keep his freedom for now. A prison cell provides three meals and a bed. Richard’s real punishment is walking the streets of Manhattan knowing what he threw away."
I turned my attention to the large architectural model resting on the mahogany table in the center of the room. It was my master plan for the Hudson Riverfront—a breathtaking, sustainable mixed-use development featuring green park terraces cascading toward the water, public community centers, and affordable housing integrated seamlessly into luxury high-rises.
"Submit our proposal to the city planning commission by five o'clock," I instructed Reynolds. "Under my name. Victoria Sullivan."
"Right away, Miss Sullivan."
That afternoon, the city planning commission convened an emergency hearing. The press gathered in droves outside the municipal building. When I stepped out of the black town car, flashes strobed across the marble steps. Reporters shouted questions, desperate for soundbites from the heiress who had brought down Horizon Prime's executive suite in a single afternoon.
May you like
I did not stop for interviews. I walked into the hearing room with my head held high, my portfolio under my arm, ready to claim the skyline that had always belonged to me.
---
