Chapter 11
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The next morning, Cassandra Vance woke up in her sprawling, multi-million dollar mansion with a splitting headache and a bruised cheek. She stared at the ceiling, desperately hoping the events of the previous night had been a terrible, alcohol-induced nightmare.
She walked down the sweeping marble staircase, wrapped in a silk robe, expecting to find her husband drinking coffee in the dining room. Instead, she found Richard frantically shoving documents into a leather briefcase, his face pale and covered in a layer of cold sweat.
"Richard, what on earth are you doing?" Cassandra demanded, her voice shrill. "Why is my phone ringing off the hook? I tried to call the country club to book a massage, but the receptionist hung up on me!"
Richard stopped, staring at his wife with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"Because you are blacklisted, Cassandra," Richard shouted, slamming the briefcase shut. "We are entirely blacklisted! Alexander Sterling wasn't bluffing. He called in the margin loan on my company at 3:00 AM. The board of directors held an emergency meeting at dawn."
Cassandra scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "So what? It's just a company. My father left me a massive trust fund. We are old money, Richard. The Sterlings are just nouveau riche bullies. I will call my lawyers."
"Your lawyers just dropped us!" Richard yelled, his voice cracking with panic. "Sterling threatened to pull his firm's retainer if they took our calls. And your precious trust fund? It's heavily invested in my company’s stock, which just plummeted seventy percent in the pre-market trading because Sterling publicly announced he is severing all ties with us!"
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Cassandra froze, the color draining from her face as the reality of the situation began to penetrate her thick skull.
"We are ruined, Cassandra," Richard whispered, walking toward the front door. "I am going to the office to try and salvage whatever pieces are left. Don't call me. Don't talk to anyone. You have destroyed our entire lives."
