Chapter 8 - The Queen’s Court
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Three thousand miles away, on the prime top floor of Vance Tower in Manhattan, the world moved with absolute, silent precision.
The executive boardroom featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls that offered a breathtaking panoramic view of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline.
I sat at the head of the forty-foot conference table, wearing a crisp black blazer, sipping white tea from a bone china cup.
Flanking me were twelve of the most powerful corporate lawyers, financial analysts, and risk managers on the East Coast. Dominic stood directly behind my chair, his arms crossed, watching the security feeds monitoring the building perimeter.
"Ms. Vance," said Arthur Pendelton, the senior partner of Vance Legal. "Cross Construction has officially been placed on the high-risk default list as of twenty minutes ago."
"What is their current liquidity?" I asked quietly.
"Less than eight hundred thousand dollars in liquid cash reserves," Arthur reported, sliding an iPad across the table toward me. "Without Vance Commercial Bank’s credit line, Adrian Cross cannot meet his payroll on Friday. His suppliers have already halted steel shipments to his three primary construction sites."
I looked out at the sunlit skyline, feeling neither joy nor anger. Just a deep, cold sense of clarity.
"What about his personal assets?" I asked.
"The mansion in Chicago is held under a joint mortgage," Arthur explained with a thin, professional smile. "Since he used company funds to pay the down payment, our legal team has attached a corporate lien to the deed. By next week, the foreclosure process will commence."
A young associate stepped into the boardroom and bowed slightly. "Ms. Vance, Mr. Adrian Cross is currently on line one. He has called thirty-four times in the last two hours. He is begging to speak with you."
The room went quiet as the board members looked at me, awaiting my command.
I took another slow sip of my tea, setting the porcelain cup down without making a sound against the saucer.
"Tell him," I said smoothly, "that Ms. Vance does not take calls from unvetted contractors."
The associate smiled. "Understood, ma'am."
"Dominic," I called out.
May you like
"Yes, Ms. Vance?"
"Release the mantel clock audio recording to the press board at noon," I instructed. "Let the public hear how the CEO of Cross Construction treats the woman who saved his business."
