Chapter 6
"Mr. Blackwood, please!" A voice shouted from the front row of tables.
Marcus Sterling, sixty-two years old, the CEO of Sterling Logistics and Genevieve’s father, rushed forward through the crowd. His tuxedo was disheveled, sweat pouring from his silver temples, his hands trembling as he shoved his way past the private security detail.
"Arthur, please, let us speak as gentlemen!" Marcus pleaded, bowing his head in frantic deference. "Genevieve is spoiled, she is impulsive, she made a catastrophic error! I will make her apologize on her knees! I will pay whatever restitution you demand! Five million, ten million—name your figure!"
Arthur didn't even turn his head to look at the man. "Harrison."
From the shadows behind the marble pillars, Harrison, the Chief Security Officer of Blackwood Global, stepped into the light. He carried an encrypted tablet with a live satellite uplink.
"Yes, Mr. Chairman," Harrison said crisply.
"Execute the short positions on Sterling Logistics," Arthur commanded. "Call the Chairman of Maritime Credit. Pull the thirty-million-dollar collateral facility on their northern docks. Revoke their commercial leasing licenses in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia."
Marcus Sterling’s eyes bulged with sheer, paralyzing horror. "Arthur, no! That facility matures tomorrow! If you pull the collateral tonight, my company goes into involuntary Chapter 7 liquidation by sunrise!"
"Then I suggest you file the paperwork early, Marcus," Arthur said, his voice flat as a frozen lake. "Because by eight o'clock tomorrow morning, your stock will be trading at zero."
"Genevieve, you stupid, arrogant whore!" Marcus screamed, spinning on his daughter, his fists clenched in pure rage. "You destroyed us! You destroyed everything I built for forty years over a dress!"
Genevieve fell to her knees on the stained marble, clutching her father’s legs, sobbing hysterically. "Daddy, I didn't know! Julian told me she was a nobody! Julian swore her family had no money!"
"Julian?" Arthur’s gaze finally shifted, slow and lethal, locking onto his son-in-law.
Julian Vance had backed himself against a marble column, his chest heaving, his fingers clawing at the stone as if trying to merge with the masonry.
"Julian," Eleanor spoke, her voice clear and carrying across the three hundred petrified witnesses. "Step forward."
Julian swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically. "Eleanor... please. We're married. We took vows before God. Think of Maya! She needs her father!"
"Her father?" Eleanor let out a bitter, cutting laugh. "The father who stood in the foyer two minutes ago and told Genevieve that Maya was a 'mistake'? The father who called his five-year-old daughter an embarrassment?"
"I was under pressure!" Julian pleaded, his American accent cracking into desperate, pathetic whines. "The merger... the bank debt... I was losing my mind, Eleanor! I didn't mean it! You know how much I love her!"
"You don't love her, Julian," Eleanor said, walking toward him with Maya resting safely on her hip. "You loved the thirty million dollars that miraculously appeared in your startup account four years ago. You thought you were a financial genius, didn't you? You thought venture capitalists were throwing money at your logistics firm because of your charismatic pitches."
May you like
Julian froze. "What... what are you talking about?"
"The seed capital for Vance Logistics didn't come from angel investors, Julian," Eleanor said, tapping her fingers against Maya’s back. "It came from my personal trust. I funded your entire life. Every suit you wear, every car in your garage, every single contract you signed was subsidized by the woman you called street trash."
