Chapter 6 - The Freezing of the Assets
"You think you’ve won, don't you?" Marcus said, his voice dropping into a low, venomous growl once his mistress was gone. "You think because your father has money, you can just erase me from the history of this brand? The industry knows who I am, Victoria. I’ll start another chain. I’ll take half the clients with me."
"With what capital, Marcus?" I asked, sitting down on the armchair opposite him. Elena stood by the door, reviewing a live document stream on her tablet.
"I have my personal accounts at Chase and Santander," he said, puffing out his chest with a residual shred of defiance. "I have my investments in the Miami project."
Elena looked up from her screen, a cold smile touching her lips. "Not anymore, Mr. Castellano. At 2:15 a.m., the High Court of London issued an international asset freeze based on the evidence Clara Croft pulled from your office computer. The Miami project was funded using a co-signed credit line from Sterling Global. Since you breached the moral turpitude clause of that contract tonight by using corporate funds for personal... non-business companions, the bank has called the entire loan due immediately."
Marcus’s hand flew to the window frame to steady himself. "The whole loan? That’s eighty million dollars!"
"Which you don't have," I said. "The Santander accounts were registered under a corporate tax shelter that my father’s legal team created for us five years ago. Since the shelter was built on Sterling corporate entities, the access codes were revoked when your employment was terminated tonight. You currently have access to exactly one account: your personal checking account at a local credit union. I believe the balance is roughly twelve thousand dollars."
"Twelve thousand dollars?" Marcus gasped, his eyes widening in horror. "That won't even pay my legal retainer for the divorce!"
"Then I suggest you find a public defender who understands corporate bankruptcy, Marcus," I said, standing up and picking up my mother’s sapphire brooch from the table. "Because by noon today, the news of your suspension will hit the Wall Street Journal. The Castellano name will be so toxic that even the budget motels on the interstate won't hire you to manage their front desk."
He looked at me, the realization finally hitting him like a physical blow. He wasn't just losing his wife; he was losing his lifestyle, his reputation, his identity. The man who had spent eleven years pretending to be a billionaire was being reduced to his original dimensions—a middle-management hustler from New Jersey who had gotten lucky because a wealthy woman fell in love with him.
"Victoria... please," he whispered, stepping toward me, his hands rising in a gesture of supplication. "Think about what we built. Think about our anniversary next month. We can go to counseling. We can fix this."
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"You should have thought about our anniversary before you gave my mother’s jewelry to a girl who wasn't even born when I graduated from college, Marcus," I said, stepping back so he couldn't touch me. "The time for negotiations ended when Gregory pushed me out into the rain tonight. You wanted to see who actually owned this hotel? Look around you. It's the last time you'll ever see it from the inside."
I turned to Elena. "Call the marshals. Have him escorted through the service elevator. I don't want him staining the main lobby floors on his way out."
