Chapter 5 - The Financial Sting
The revelation of my family’s true wealth didn't stop Owen and Lorraine; it simply made them more desperate—and far more dangerous.
Instead of backing away, Owen changed tactics. He realized he couldn't strip assets from a girl he thought was poor, so he decided to target my father’s empire directly through me.
Over the next three weeks, Owen played the role of the newly enlightened, deeply apologetic husband. He brought me flowers every day, catered lavish dinners, and repeatedly expressed awe at my father's achievements.
"I was just so blown away, Mara," Owen said one evening in our luxury apartment, pouring two glasses of red wine. "I had no idea your dad was such a titan. I feel so humbled."
"He’s very modest," I replied, sitting on the sofa, watching him closely.
"You know," Owen said, sitting beside me and taking my hand with an earnest expression. "My consulting firm is expanding into government logistics. If we could secure a small sub-contract with Vance-Defense, it would elevate my company to the next level. We could build a real empire together, Mara."
There it was. The play.
"Oh, Owen, that sounds incredible!" I said, feigning excitement. "Dad loves supporting family. But... you know how strict his corporate board is. They don't allow uncollateralized contracts."
Owen blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Well," I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Dad told me that if a private firm wants to join the prime vendor tier, the founder has to put up a personal asset reserve as a performance bond. If the firm meets its metrics, the bond yields a twenty-percent dividend guaranteed by Vance-Defense."
Owen’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs. A guaranteed twenty-percent return backed by a major defense contractor was unheard of.
"How much of a performance bond?" Owen asked, trying to keep his tone calm, though his breathing quickened.
"Two million dollars," I said casually. "Dad said he could approve your firm tomorrow if you put up the bond. But... oh, never mind. It’s too much money. I know your firm doesn't have that kind of liquid cash."
"Wait, wait, Mara," Owen said quickly, gripping my hand tighter. "Don't write it off so fast. My mother and I... we have property. We have equity in her estate and my firm's reserve portfolio. If we pool our assets, we can reach two million."
"Owen, no, I couldn't let you risk Lorraine’s house!" I protested, acting alarmed.
"It’s not a risk if it’s backed by your father's company!" Owen insisted, a manic edge entering his voice. He was greed-blinded, seeing a golden ticket to easy millions. "Talk to your dad. Get the performance bond contracts drafted!"
"If you're sure..." I murmured, hiding my cold smile behind my wine glass.
The next day, Evelyn Vance drafted the "Performance Bond Agreement."
To Owen, it looked like a standard high-yield vendor contract. But buried deep in the corporate clauses—crafted specifically to catch greedy opportunists—was a crucial contingency: The Performance Bond is tied to Vendor Operational Compliance under Federal Statute 4-A. Any misrepresentation of corporate solvency or personal asset history forfeits the bond entirely to the Prime Contractor’s Indemnity Fund.
Two days later, Owen and Lorraine sat in my father’s high-rise executive suite on the top floor of the Vance-Defense tower.
Lorraine was dressed impeccably, practically glowing with smug satisfaction. She signed her name to the mortgage pledge of her prized three-million-dollar suburban home, while Owen signed over all equity in his consulting firm as the collateral bond.
"This is a monument to our family's future, Arthur," Lorraine said smoothly, sliding the signed papers across the mahogany desk. "A true partnership."
My father picked up the documents, checked the signatures, and handed them directly to Evelyn Vance, who stood quietly in the corner of the office.
"It certainly is a monument, Lorraine," my father said, his voice completely devoid of warmth. "To ambition."
May you like
Owen smiled, believing he had just secured his fortune. He had no idea that Evelyn Vance had already spent the last two weeks auditing his firm—discovering three separate counts of fraudulent tax reporting and inflated asset values that Owen had submitted to secure his private bank loans.
The trap was baited. The net was drawn. All that remained was to spring it.
