Chapter 15 - Divide and Conquer
Sterling stepped forward, unzipping an executive folio and extracting a single certified document stamped with the seal of the United States Treasury.
“Julian Vance,” Sterling said, his dry bureaucratic tone shattering the glittering illusion of the gala. “Three days ago, Ms. Ivy Caldwell submitted a forensic request regarding the 1998 Vance Inter-Family Covenant. Upon subpoenaing the off-book accounts of Vance Hospitality, we discovered that the original lien held by Eleanor Vance Caldwell was repaid in full on October 14, 2004.”
Whispers exploded through the room. Claire stared at Julian, her mouth opening in shock. “Repaid? What is he talking about? Julian, you told me—”
“Quiet, Claire,” Julian snarled under his breath, his suave veneer cracking into jagged shards.
“It was repaid by Eleanor herself,” Ivy continued, stepping directly into Julian’s personal space. “Using her private dividend account. But my father, Arthur, who acted as her business secretary at the time, deliberately concealed the certificate of satisfaction. And when he went broke again three months ago, he sold that stale, cancelled carbon copy to you, Julian, for two hundred thousand dollars in cash.”
“Arthur sold it to me with full legal warranties!” Julian hissed, his fists clenching at his sides.
“And you knew it was worthless,” Ivy replied, her eyes flashing like steel. “You didn't care that the debt was extinguished. You thought that by bringing Claire in, exploiting her deep, pathetic jealousy of me, and threatening an endless federal arbitration, you could bully me into selling the land to you at thirty cents on the dollar before the title search caught up with you.”
Claire had turned pale as bleached linen. She grabbed Julian’s arm, her fingers digging through his wool jacket. “Julian! Is this true? You told me you were going to make me co-owner! You told me we were executing a legitimate foreclosure!”
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Julian yanked his arm free from Claire’s grip with such brutal disgust that she stumbled back against the table, rattling the crystal stemware.
“You idiot,” Julian spat at Claire, ignoring the horrified gasps of the surrounding high-society guests. “You were just the delivery girl. You had the family name, and you had access to Arthur’s old files. Did you really think a corporate firm was going to hand an unemployed, desperate socialite half of a fifty-million-dollar development? You were leverage. And now you’re liability.”
