Chapter 7 - The Freezing of the Accounts
While Julian was being escorted through the service exit of the corporate tower in full view of dozens of whispering employees, his mother, Vivian, was having the morning of her life.
At Windmere Manor, the grand estate was a flurry of activity. Vivian had spent the morning on the phone, calling every prominent socialite, patron, and country club board member in her gilded address book.
"Eleanor, darling! You must come over this evening at six," Vivian cooed into her jewel-encrusted smartphone, lounging on the velvet sofa in the morning room. "Julian and I are hosting an impromptu celebratory gathering. Yes, it’s finally finalized! The divorce is complete. The little bookkeeper is officially out of our lives, and the Ashford estate is fully restored to its rightful owners. Do bring your sister!"
Vivian hung up, tossing the phone onto the cushion with a satisfied sigh.
To ensure the evening was sufficiently grand, Vivian had hired the city's most exclusive catering and floral service, Le Petit Palais. By two in the afternoon, three delivery vans were parked in the circular driveway. Workers were carrying massive silver urns overflowing with white lilies, crates of imported caviar, and cases of vintage champagne into the ballroom.
The head of catering, a fastidious man named Monsieur Renard, walked into the morning room holding an electronic tablet.
"Madame Ashford," Renard said with a stiff bow. "The preparations for seventy guests are underway. However, our accounts department requires authorization for the preliminary deposit before we uncork the vintage reserves. Twelve thousand five hundred dollars, as per our contract."
"Of course, of course," Vivian said dismissively, opening her designer purse. "Charge my black card. The Ashford private account."
Vivian handed him the heavy titanium credit card—the card she had used without limit for nine years, never once asking who authorized the monthly balance payments.
Renard slid the card through his portable terminal.
A short, electronic chime sounded. Renard frowned, looking at the display.
*TRANSACTION DECLINED: CODE 04 - ACCOUNT TERMINATED BY ISSUER.*
Renard cleared his throat politely. "Pardon, Madame. Perhaps there is a temporary chip error. Do you have a secondary corporate card?"
Vivian waved her hand impatiently. "Nonsense. The terminal must be out of range. Run it again."
Renard ran it again.
*TRANSACTION DECLINED: CARD BLOCKED.*
Vivian snatched the card from his hand, her brow furrowing with annoyance. "Incompetent bank systems. Here, use my personal platinum card. It’s drawn on Julian’s executive compensation account."
Renard swiped the platinum card.
*TRANSACTION DECLINED: RESTRICTED FUNDS.*
Vivian stared at the little screen, her heart skipping a sudden, erratic beat. "What is the meaning of this? Julian has millions in that liquidity reserve!"
Before Renard could answer, the roar of a car engine tore through the quiet afternoon outside. A moment later, the front doors burst open.
Julian stumbled into the grand foyer, his hair disheveled, his tie undone, and his eyes bloodshot with panicked rage. Lila dragged herself in behind him, her eyes puffy from crying, her designer shoes clutched in her hand.
"Julian!" Vivian cried, rushing out into the hallway. "Thank goodness you’re here! The catering terminal is malfunctioning, and these fools are claiming our credit cards are declined! Call the bank immediately and—"
"Shut up, Mother!" Julian snarled, his voice breaking into a ragged scream. "Just shut up!"
Vivian gasped, stopping dead in her tracks, her hand flying to her chest. "Julian! How dare you speak to me like that! What on earth has happened to you? Where is your car? Why is Lila crying?"
"We took a cab," Lila sobbed hysterical from the doorway. "The security guards wouldn't even let Julian take his Porsche out of the garage! They said the lease was registered under Aegis Holdings! They locked the vehicle!"
"Aegis?" Vivian repeated, the word sounding foreign and repulsive in her mouth. "What is Aegis? Julian, what is she talking about?!"
Julian collapsed onto the bottom step of the oak staircase, burying his face in his hands. "She owns it all, Mother. Everything. The company... the patents... the building... the bank accounts. Ashford Med was never mine. It was always Claire."
Vivian stared at her son, her face draining of all color until she looked like a ghost draped in expensive silk. "That's... that's absurd. You are an Ashford! She was just a girl from the suburbs! You built that firm!"
"I didn't build a damn thing!" Julian shrieked, looking up with tears of sheer terror streaming down his cheeks. "She built it! She paid for it! She let me run it because she loved me, and I threw it away! She frozen every single account, Mother! The corporate cards, the liquidity lines, the personal stipends—they were all subsidiaries of Aegis! We have nothing! We don't even have fifty dollars for the cab driver!"
Before Vivian could process the apocalyptic weight of Julian's words, the sound of heavy vehicle doors slamming echoed from the driveway outside.
Monsieur Renard peeked through the front sidelight window, his eyes widening. "Mon Dieu..."
Vivian hurried to the front doors, Julian scrambling up behind her.
Parked directly across the circular driveway, blocking the catering vans, were three marked County Sheriff vehicles and two black unmarked sedans.
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Stepping out of the lead squad car was Deputy Sheriff Miller, accompanied by a locksmith carrying a heavy metal toolkit, and Arthur Vance, who stepped out of the black sedan holding a thick, red-stamped manila folder.
***
