Chapter 12 - A Dinner with Vipers
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Two days later, my phone rang from an unlisted Manhattan landline.
Against Declan’s advice, I answered.
“Sloane?”
It was Eleanor Sterling’s voice. But the sharp, condescending rasp that had tormented me for three years was entirely gone. In its place was a sickly sweet, desperate tone that made my skin crawl.
“What do you want, Eleanor?” I asked coldly.
“Sloane, darling,” she purred, her voice trembling slightly behind the false warmth.
“I know things have been... terribly strained between us. Misunderstandings happen in the heat of stressful moments. But Richard is in the hospital, and Vance is simply heartbroken. We need to talk, just us women. Family to family.”
“We are not family, Eleanor,” I replied flatly.
“Oh, don’t say that, sweetie!” she gasped.
“You are still legally married to my son! Please, just meet me for tea at the St. Regis. Just one hour. I want to apologize properly. I’ll even bring the vintage heirloom pearl necklace you always admired.”
I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity. The pearl necklace she had once accused me of trying to steal from her jewelry box.
I looked over at Declan, who was sitting across my desk, shaking his head furiously and mouthing, No.
A sharp, calculating thought bloomed in my mind. Eleanor was desperate. Desperate people make catastrophic mistakes.
“Fine,” I said into the phone.
“The St. Regis, dining room. One hour. But if Vance shows up, I walk immediately.”
“Just me! I promise!” Eleanor chirped before hanging up.
An hour later, I walked into the opulent, gold-leafed dining room of the St. Regis Hotel. Eleanor was already seated at a secluded corner booth, wearing a muted black dress that looked remarkably humble for her usual ostentatious style.
As I sat down across from her, she immediately reached across the table, trying to grab my hand. I pulled my hands back into my lap.
“Sloane, my dear,” Eleanor began, her eyes welling with practiced tears.
“I was so wrong about you. I let the stress of the business get the better of me. That moment at the Plaza... I was simply overwhelmed!”
“You slapped me in front of two hundred people, Eleanor,” I reminded her, my voice as hard as granite.
“And you called me an ungrateful nobody.”
“A tragic slip of the tongue!” she insisted, waving her hand dismissively.
“We can move past it! If you just convince your mother to reinstate the Vanguard contract, I will personally ensure Vance gives you fifty percent of his equity in the company! You’ll be a full partner!”
I stared at her, amazed by the sheer depth of her delusion.
“Do you really think this is about money, Eleanor?” I asked softly.
“Vanguard controls tens of billions. I don’t need Vance’s pathetic fifty percent.”
Eleanor’s false smile faltered for a fraction of a second, her eyes narrowing.
“Then what do you want?” she hissed, the venom bleeding back into her tone.
“I want justice,” I said, leaning forward.
“I want your husband in federal prison for land theft and attempted murder. I want your son bankrupt. And I want you to spend the rest of your life watching the high society you sacrificed your soul for treat you like a plague victim.”
Eleanor’s face contorted into pure, demonic rage. She slammed her hand onto the white tablecloth, rattling the teacups.
“You arrogant little bitch!” she spat, forgetting all pretense.
“You think you’re untouchable because of your mother’s money? We made you! Vance gave you a life!”
I calmly stood up, picking up my purse.
“Thank you for the tea, Eleanor,” I said serenely.
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“By the way, this entire conversation was picked up by the lapel mic under my collar. The District Attorney thanks you for confirming your knowledge of the business arrangements.”
Eleanor’s face turned completely white as I turned and walked out of the restaurant, leaving her paralyzed in horror.
