Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Dinner
Three days later, the storm had moved from the sky to the legal offices of Vance & Sterling.
I sat in a high-backed leather chair in the primary conference room on the 42nd floor of the downtown skyscraper. Arthur Vance sat next to me, his silver hair perfectly coiffed, a sleek fountain pen resting between his long, elegant fingers. Across the polished mahogany table sat Mark and his family’s primary corporate attorney, a sharp-faced man named Robert Croft.
Mark was there, too. He looked remarkably different from the exhausted man who had walked into our kitchen at 4:30 a.m. He wore a crisp, dark blue suit, his hair neatly styled, his expression arrogant and detached.
He didn't look at me. He kept his eyes on his phone, as if my presence was merely an administrative chore he had to endure before his lunch.
“Let’s make this quick,” Robert Croft said, opening a thin manila folder. “My client is prepared to offer a highly generous settlement to avoid a lengthy, messy court battle. We are prepared to offer Mrs. Sterling—or rather, Ms. Nora Vance—the penthouse apartment in Lincoln Park, a one-time lump sum of five hundred thousand dollars, and five thousand dollars a month in child support. In exchange, she signs the divorce decree today and waives any further claim to the Sterling Group estate.”
Mark finally looked up, his lips curving into a smug, patronizing smile.
“It’s more than you’re entitled to under the prenup, Nora,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with condescension. “But I want to make sure Toby is taken care of. I’m a fair man. Take the offer, pack up your things, and let’s move on with our lives. You can find a nice, quiet job somewhere. Maybe back as a junior accountant.”
I didn't blink. I didn't say a word.
Beside me, Arthur Vance let out a soft, elegant sigh that sounded almost like pity. He didn't look at Croft; he looked directly at Mark.
“Mr. Sterling,” Arthur said, his voice like velvet over gravel. “Your generosity is truly touching. However, my client is not interested in your crumbs. We are here today to discuss the total liquidation of your assets, the immediate restructuring of the Sterling Group Real Estate Fund, and your potential criminal liability for grand larceny and corporate embezzlement.”
Mark’s smug smile instantly froze.
Robert Croft’s eyes snapped to Arthur. “Mr. Vance, I suggest you watch your language. You are making highly defamatory accusations against my client without a shred of evidence.”
“Defamatory?” Arthur smiled, reaching into his briefcase. He pulled out a thick, bound document with a bright red cover page and slid it across the table. It made a solid, heavy thud against the mahogany.
“This is a comprehensive forensic audit report compiled by Ms. Nora, who, as you may recall, was the lead analyst for the Vance & Sterling firm before her temporary sabbatical,” Arthur said. “Inside, you will find a complete, audited trail of one point eight million dollars transferred from the Sterling Group’s primary development accounts to Aurora Holdings LLC.”
Mark’s face drained of color so fast it looked like a sheet of paper. He reached for the document, but Croft’s hand shot out to stop him.
“And what, pray tell, is Aurora Holdings?” Croft asked, his voice losing its confident edge.
“Aurora Holdings is a shell company registered in Delaware, whose sole authorized banking signatory is Ms. Chloe Davenport,” Arthur said, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Your client’s executive assistant. And, if the private investigator report on page forty-two is correct, his mistress of eighteen months.”
The Breaking PointMark stood up so fast his chair screeched against the hardwood floor.
“This is a lie!” he shouted, his chest heaving. “Nora, you’re insane! You’ve been spying on me? You think you can use this to blackmail me? My father will destroy you! He owns the legal system in this city!”
“Your father doesn't know, does he, Mark?” I finally spoke, my voice calm, flat, and entirely devoid of emotion. “He doesn't know that you’ve been stealing from his real estate fund to buy a three-million-dollar villa in Miami under Chloe’s name. He doesn't know that the money you used was actually earmarked for the city’s municipal development project—a project that is currently being audited by the federal housing authority.”
Mark’s eyes went wide. The realization hit him like a physical blow.
He wasn't just facing a divorce. He was facing a multi-agency federal investigation. And worse, he was facing the wrath of his father, Richard Sterling, a man who valued his corporate legacy above his own blood.
“We have already forwarded a copy of this audit to the Internal Revenue Service’s Criminal Investigation Division,” Arthur Vance added, his voice smooth and cold. “As well as to the Board of Directors of the Sterling Group. I believe your father is currently convening an emergency board meeting as we speak.”
Mark’s phone suddenly began to vibrate on the table.
The screen lit up with a single, terrifying name.
DAD.
May you like
Mark stared at the phone, his hand shaking so violently he couldn't even reach out to silence it. The room was completely silent, save for the buzz of the phone against the polished wood.
“You have twenty-four hours to sign the revised settlement agreement, Mark,” I said, standing up and closing my laptop. “Otherwise, the next conversation you have about your assets will be with a federal prosecutor.”
