Chapter 3 - Blood on the Marble
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I straightened my posture, pulling my shoulders back.
My mother, Margo, remained seated for a moment, her face a mask of terrifying composure. She raised two fingers, giving a subtle signal to her Chief of Staff hovering in the shadows. The executive instantly understood. He bypassed the frantic event coordinators, marched onto the stage, and practically tore the microphone from the hands of the bewildered emcee.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice boomed, sharp and resolute, cutting through the rising murmurs.
“On behalf of the Chairwoman of Vanguard Holdings, Margo Kensington, I must make an urgent corporate declaration. Due to severe, unforeseen breaches of character and trust, Vanguard is officially withdrawing from the Sterling Apex Urban Redevelopment Project. Effective immediately, all previous letters of intent, term sheets, and financial commitments are unequivocally void. Have a safe evening.”
The statement was brutally concise, yet its destructive yield was biblical.
The $400 million crown jewel of the Sterling dynasty evaporated into vapor right before their eyes.
I turned to look at my former family. Richard Sterling, the untouchable patriarch, staggered backward, his face turning an alarming shade of gray as he clutched the edge of a mahogany table to keep from collapsing.
Vance looked as though all the blood had been drained from his veins. He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing silently, utterly paralyzed by horror.
And Eleanor—the woman who had just struck me—was trembling violently. Her aristocratic facade had melted into a puddle of frantic desperation. She lunged toward the VIP table, shoving past a bewildered waiter, her manicured hands fluttering wildly.
“Margo! Margo, please!” Eleanor shrilled, her voice stripped of its upper-crust polish.
“What on earth is this girl blabbering about? She—she’s clearly having a nervous breakdown! The stress of the city, you know? We are all family here! Let’s just step into a private suite, uncork a vintage Bordeaux, and sort this out!”
The audacity was almost majestic. Mere moments ago, I was a disease to be excised. Now, she was aggressively claiming me as kin.
My mother slowly stood up. She didn’t yell. She merely looked at Eleanor with a gaze as desolate and freezing as a New York winter.
“My daughter is perfectly sane, Eleanor,” Margo said, her tone slicing through the air.
“As for your son… tonight I have finally been granted the privilege of seeing his true colors. Vanguard does not do business with cowards, nor do we fund abusers.”
It wasn’t a curse, but it carried the weight of a corporate death sentence.
The reality of the situation finally seemed to penetrate Vance’s shock. He looked at me—no longer with disdain or annoyance, but with sheer, unadulterated terror. He abandoned Cleo, shoving past his own mother, and suddenly collapsed to his knees right at my feet. The same hands that wore a limited-edition Patek Philippe were now desperately clawing at the fabric of my dress.
“Sloane! Sloane, I am begging you!” he sobbed, his charismatic voice cracking into pathetic wheezes.
“Everything—everything is a massive misunderstanding! Cleo is nothing to me! She’s just a colleague who drank too much! Please, Sloane, my God, don’t do this to me!”
I stared down at the man I had once loved with every fiber of my being. I searched my heart for a flicker of sympathy, but found nothing but a rising tide of profound disgust.
“Take your hands off me,” I whispered, stepping back so abruptly he nearly fell forward.
“You’re a miserable actor, Vance. You should save that script for your soulmate.”
I emphasized the word soulmate, causing Cleo, who was hiding near the ice sculpture, to turn a sickly shade of green.
May you like
I couldn’t endure the stale air of that ballroom for another second. I gave my mother a weary nod. Margo draped her heavy cashmere wrap over my shoulders, and together, we turned our backs on the wreckage.
As we walked toward the exit, the sea of Manhattan’s elite literally parted for us, their faces painted with awe, fear, and ravenous curiosity. Behind me, the chaotic symphony of Vance’s wailing and Eleanor’s frantic screaming echoed off the gilded pillars, fading into the background like the noise of a dying machine.
