Chapter 17 - The Desperate Trap
The penthouse suite was silent save for the howling blizzard outside the floor-to-ceiling glass when the private elevator doors chimed and slid open with a violent shriek.
Julian Sterling stepped out first, an iron pry-bar in his gloved hands, his luxury overcoat flecked with snow. Behind him, Eleanor stormed into the room like a specter of ruined nobility, kicking aside an architectural model of the new harbor pavilion that sat near the entrance.
"Find it!" Eleanor snarled, pointing her diamond-ringed finger toward the mahogany desk where my Earl Grey tea had long since gone cold. "The master server drive! The original deed documents from 2016! If those papers reach the referee's desk on Monday, the bank seizes the trust, the estate, and every offshore account!"
Kayla rushed toward the antique credenza, sweeping crystal decanters and hand-blown glasses onto the floor, where they shattered in sparkling sprays across the polished wood.
"There's nothing here, Mother!" Kayla cried, prying open drawer after drawer only to find blank stationery and drafting pens. "It's empty! She cleaned it out! She knew we were coming!"
"Shut up and search the walls!" Julian barked, his face twisted in panic. "My father put five million dollars into your mother’s holding firm to secure the mezzanine loan! If this place is seized, the Sterling group faces a forensic inquiry by the Securities Commission! Do you have any idea what that means? It means prison, Kayla! For all of us!"
"Don't you speak to my daughter like that, Julian!" Eleanor snapped, spinning on him with bared teeth. "You were eager enough to take David’s assets when we were pouring vintage champagne down your throat! You wanted the harbor real estate just as much as we did!"
"I wanted a legitimate developer!" Julian shouted back, slamming his pry-bar against the drafting desk, splintering the mahogany top. "Not an aging fraud who poisoned her husband and couldn't even keep a twenty-two-year-old girl locked in an attic!"
The room went dead silent.
Even Kayla stopped her frantic tearing of the upholstery, freezing with her hands inside a slashed leather cushion.
"What did you just say?" Eleanor whispered, her voice deadly low.
"You think my father didn't run background checks before I proposed to this vacuous doll?" Julian sneered, gesturing violently toward Kayla. "We knew about the digitalis, Eleanor. We knew about the falsified toxicology reports. We just didn't care as long as the deeds were clean! But now the girl has Dennis Vance, she has the title, and she has the court orders. You are finished!"
From the shadows of the mezzanine gallery overlooking the penthouse office, a calm, clear voice descended like a blade of ice.
May you like
"He's right, Eleanor. You are finished."
***
