Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE OF CARDS COLLAPSES
By noon, the news of Andrew Vance’s financial crisis had begun to ripple through the close-knit business community of Charlottesville and Richmond.
At the main offices of Vance Development Group, Andrew was frantically pacing his glass-walled corner office. Across from him sat his mother, Patricia, looking unusually flustered, her pearl necklace practically quivering against her neck.
"What do you mean we don't own the Charlottesville estate?!" Patricia demanded, her voice shrill. "You told the entire family at dinner last night that you purchased it outright! My sisters are already making plans to host the annual spring gala there!"
"Mother, shut up for one second!" Andrew yelled, slamming his fists onto his mahogany desk. Sweat soaked the collar of his custom dress shirt. "The venue lease was held under a conditional purchase agreement! The financing fell through this morning because some massive hedge fund called Vanguard bought up my secondary notes and froze my credit lines!"
The double doors of his office swung open without a knock.
Four men in sharp grey suits walked into the room, led by Arthur Sterling.
Andrew jumped to his feet, his face turning bright red. "Who the hell let you in here? Security! Get these people out of my office!"
Arthur Sterling didn't move an inch. He pulled a leather bound folder from his arm, opening it with clinical precision.
"Mr. Vance," Arthur said, his voice echoing off the glass walls. "My name is Arthur Sterling, Chief Legal Counsel for Vanguard Strategic Holdings. Security will not be assisting you today, as Vanguard has just exercised its rights under the commercial mortgage agreement to assume immediate control of this building."
Patricia rose from her chair, her eyes flashing with indignity. "Do you know who we are? How dare you step into my son's firm and speak to him like that! He is a Vance!"
Arthur turned his cool gaze toward Patricia, offering a polite, distant bow. "Ah, Mrs. Patricia Vance. I am familiar with your reputation. However, the Vance name does not hold equity against a 5.4 million peso defaulted promissory note, nor does it cover the two point eight million dollars in back rent owed on the Charlottesville estate."
Andrew’s jaw dropped. "How do you know about the peso note? That was an offshore private agreement!"
"It was," Arthur agreed smoothly. "An agreement structured through our primary subsidiary in Manila—a subsidiary whose board of directors answers directly to our Managing Trustee and Chief Executive Officer."
Andrew stumbled back against his desk, gripping the edge for support. "Who is your CEO? Is it Harrison? Did Harrison send you to ruin me?"
Arthur turned toward the doorway and stepped aside. "Our CEO is right outside, Mr. Vance. She preferred to deliver the final notice to you in person."
High heels clicked firmly against the polished granite floor outside the office.
Patricia adjusted her cardigan, puffing out her chest. "Well, let him come in! I will personally inform his board of directors about this uncivilized behavior!"
The person who walked into the office was not an elderly hedge-fund manager or a corporate raider.
It was me.
I wore a sharply tailored burgundy power suit, my dark hair styled in sleek, professional waves, and a pair of diamond stud earrings that caught the overhead light. I carried a leather document casing in my left hand, while my right hand rested comfortably at my side.
Patricia’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stared at me as if a ghost had just walked through the wall.
Andrew froze, his eyes bulging. "Lauren...? What... what are you wearing? What are you doing here with these people?"
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I walked to the center of the room, taking a seat in the plush leather armchair across from Andrew’s desk. I crossed my legs gracefully, looking at my husband and mother-in-law with an expression of calm, detached amusement.
"I’m here to inspect my new office, Andrew," I said softly.
