Chapter 3 - The Stock Collapse
Inside the master suite of the Bel Air mansion, Spencer Albright was admiring his reflection in the full-length mirror, adjusting his black velvet tuxedo jacket.
"She's completely lost her mind," Spencer scoffed, applying a splash of expensive cologne to his wrists. "Talking about lines of credit dying. She probably thinks her little bank account with eight hundred dollars in it is going to hurt me."
Cassandra sat on the edge of the plush leather bed, sliding her feet into a pair of sparkling Christian Louboutin heels. "Honestly, Spencer, you should have thrown her out years ago. She was so drab. And that little girl was becoming an eyesore. Did you see how she looked at me?"
"Forget about them," Spencer smiled, walking over and kissing Cassandra's shoulder. "Tonight is about Albright Enterprises. Lord Arthur Vance himself is attending the Grand Pinnacle Gala tonight. If I sign that forty-million-dollar backing agreement, our stock will skyrocket by three hundred percent by market open tomorrow."
Just then, Spencer's personal phone on the nightstand began to vibrate violently.
He picked it up, expecting it to be his driver. Instead, the caller ID showed the name of his Head of Financial Trading, Marcus.
"Marcus? Why are you calling me right now? The Gala starts in thirty minutes—"
"Spencer, turn on the financial news right now!" Marcus screamed over the phone, his voice laced with hyperventilating panic. "Turn it on right now!"
Spencer frowned, irritated. He grabbed the remote control and flicked on the wall-mounted television screen, tuning into Bloomberg Financial.
The bright red news ticker at the bottom of the screen was rolling at triple speed:
BREAKING NEWS: ALBRIGHT ENTERPRISES (NYSE: ALB) FACES SUDDEN AUDIT BY FEDERAL TRADE COMMISSION. MIDNIGHT TRADING FROZEN AS OVER $150 MILLION IN CREDIT LINES ARE INSTANTLY REVOKED BY VANCE CAPITAL GROUP. ALBRIGHT ENTERPRISES STOCK DROPS 42% IN AFTER-HOURS TRADING.
Spencer's phone slipped through his fingers, slamming onto the hardwood floor with a loud crack.
"What..." Spencer stammered, his face turning ghostly pale, his blood running cold. "What is this? This is a glitch! Marcus, tell me this is a system error!"
"It's not an error, Spencer!" Marcus yelled through the phone speaker on the floor. "Every single revolving credit facility we have—the ones guaranteed by Vance Capital subsidiaries—just terminated our contracts simultaneously! They cited 'severe breach of ethics and suspected financial fraud'! Our short sellers are destroying us! If we don't get Lord Vance to sign that rescue package tonight at the Gala, Albright Enterprises will be bankrupt before the opening bell tomorrow morning!"
Cassandra froze, her lipstick hovering an inch from her lips. "Spencer... what is he saying? What does bankrupt mean?"
"Shut up!" Spencer roared, sweating profusely as he grabbed his phone off the floor. "Marcus! Listen to me! Gather the PR team! Prepare a statement saying these are false rumors! I am heading to the Grand Pinnacle Gala right now! I will speak to Lord Vance personally! He's a reasonable man; he won't let a fifty-year-old enterprise crumble over an administrative misunderstanding!"
Spencer grabbed his velvet jacket, his hands shaking so violently he could barely button it.
"Come on, Cassandra!" he barked, grabbing her wrist roughly. "We're leaving right now!"
"Ouch! Spencer, you're hurting me!" Cassandra whined, stumbling behind him in her heavy gown.
As they rushed out of the master bedroom, Spencer glanced briefly down at the marble floor of the foyer.
There, illuminated by the bright crystal lights, lay the two broken pieces of Evelyn's faded red bracelet, right beside a tiny droplet of dry blood.
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Spencer felt an odd, suffocating tightness in his chest—a strange, fleeting instinct that warned him he had just stepped off the edge of a cliff. But he shook his head violently, pushing the thought away.
It's just a coincidence, Spencer lied to himself, stomping past the broken red thread. Evelyn is nothing. She's nobody. Lord Vance is my salvation.
