Chapter 13 - The Mask Cracks
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By Friday morning, the atmosphere in our Oakridge home was suffocatingly tense.
Dylan was frantically pacing back and forth across the living room, holding his phone to his ear, his face pale and sweating. His financial director at Vance Capital had been trying to reach Sterling Global’s legal team all morning, only to be hit with cold automated rejections.
"What do you mean they won't extend the line of credit?!" Dylan roared into his phone, slamming his fist against the wall. "Sterling Global accounts for half our liquidity! If they freeze our credit lines, we can't clear the clearing-house audit on Monday!"
I sat on the sofa, calmly reading the morning paper while drinking my tea.
Dylan hung up the phone, rubbing his face with shaking hands. He turned to glare at me, his eyes filled with paranoid suspicion.
"Did you call your father's old lawyers, Elena?" he demanded, stepping toward me. "Is that why Sterling is pulling their corporate audit?"
I set my teacup down with a soft clack.
"Why would I call them, Dylan?" I asked innocently. "You told me I was just a domestic housewife who doesn't understand high finance. Remember?"
Dylan gritted his teeth, pulling at his collar. "Something is wrong. Someone is leaking internal financial files from my server. The District Attorney's office sent a formal document request to my office an hour ago!"
"I'm sure it's just a routine inquiry, darling," I said, offering him a serene smile. "You shouldn't stress yourself out on your big night. Tonight is your hero award dinner, after all."
Dylan stared at me, a flicker of genuine fear passing through his eyes for the very first time. He was beginning to realize that the ground beneath his feet was shifting, but his massive ego prevented him from seeing the trap that had already closed around his neck.
"Right..." Dylan stammered, trying to regain his composure. "Tonight is about my heroism. The media will be there. The Mayor will be there. Once the public sees me accepting the medal with Sierra and Ryan, the investors will calm down."
He pulled his shoulders back, adjusting his posture, convincing himself that his charm could solve anything.
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"Make sure you wear something simple tonight, Elena," he said, returning to his arrogant tone. "Don't wear anything flashy. You're there as my supporting wife. The spotlight belongs to Sierra and Ryan."
"Don't worry, Dylan," I murmured, watching him walk upstairs to change into his custom velvet tuxedo. "I will wear something... unforgettable."
