Chapter 6 - The Aftermath
Z
The private room at The Bellevue, an exclusive steakhouse three blocks from the Saint Regis, was warm and quiet. The heavy oak panels absorbed the distant noise of the city, and the crackle of a small gas fireplace provided a soothing backdrop.
I sat at the head of the table, still in my black silk gown, sipping a glass of vintage Cabernet. Sitting across from me was Terrence. He had removed his tuxedo jacket and unbuttoned his collar, his head resting in his hands. Beside him sat Elias Ward, methodically sorting through a stack of legal documents.
“Drink some water, Terrence,” I said gently, pushing a glass across the white tablecloth toward him.
Terrence looked up, his eyes bloodshot and weary. He looked ten years older than he had twenty-four hours ago. “I can’t believe it, Meline. I spent three years building a home with her. I bought a nursery set last week. I was painting the walls pale blue on my days off.”
“I’m sorry, Terrence,” I said softly, my voice filled with genuine empathy. “I wish I could have spared you the pain of finding out this way. But if I hadn't intercepted them, they would have bankrupted you emotionally and financially.”
“You saved my life,” Terrence said, his voice shaking slightly as he took a sip of water. “If she had gone through with that false abuse claim... if she had put that on legal record... the hospital board would have suspended my surgical privileges instantly. My career would have been destroyed.”
“They won't be suing anyone now,” Elias interjected, setting down a pair of reading glasses. “I personally delivered a copy of the recorded hallway conversation to the managing partner of the law firm Sydney consulted. Upon hearing the audio, they immediately terminated their representation of her to avoid being named as co-conspirators in an attempted extortion scheme.”
“What happens to her now?” Terrence asked, staring blankly at the table.
“The divorce papers have been served,” Elias explained. “Given the definitive proof of marital fraud, infidelity, and conspiracy to commit extortion, she will receive zero spousal support. Furthermore, we are filing a petition to require a mandatory paternity test the moment the child is born. If the child is Jason’s—which the initial clinic data strongly indicates—you will have zero legal or financial obligation.”
Terrence closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering breath. “And Jason?”
Elias smiled thinly—a predatory look that explained why he charged one thousand dollars an hour. “Jason is in deep trouble. By 2:00 PM today, news of the fallout at the Saint Regis reached his executive team at Northbridge Wealth Management. Because he had been attempting to leverage non-existent assets from Meline to secure private loans, his firm launched an immediate internal audit of his client portfolios.”
“Did they find something?” I asked, leaning forward.
“They found that he had embezzled two hundred and twenty thousand dollars from a high-net-worth client’s trust account over the last six months to pay off his gambling debts,” Elias revealed. “The firm’s legal counsel is currently drafting a criminal referral to the State Attorney’s office. I expect a warrant for his arrest will be issued by Tuesday morning.”
A quiet knock at the private dining room door interrupted us.
The maître d' stepped inside, looking slightly flustered. “Miss Vance? I apologize for the interruption, but there is a gentleman in the main foyer demanding to see you. He is quite agitated.”
“My father?” I asked.
“Yes, ma'am. He claims it is an urgent family matter.”
I looked at Elias, who gave me a subtle nod.
“Let him in,” I said smoothly. “In fact, show him right in.”
A moment later, Richard Vance burst into the room.
His hair was unkempt, his necktie was crooked, and his face was pale and slick with sweat. The formidable, arrogant developer who had ruled our family with an iron fist for decades looked entirely shattered.
He stopped at the foot of the table, his eyes darting from me, to Terrence, and finally to Elias.
“Meline,” Dad choked out, his voice desperate and gravelly. “You have to stop this. You have to call off your lawyer.”
“Sit down, Richard,” I said, pointing to a chair. “You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”
“I don't want to sit down!” Dad yelled, his voice cracking. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! My investors are pulling out! First Capital just formally demanded immediate repayment of my four-million-dollar commercial loan! The press is calling my office! My board is threatening to remove me as CEO by tomorrow morning!”
“I know,” I said calmly, cutting a small piece of steak on my plate. “Elias told me.”
Dad slammed both hands onto the table, leaning forward, his eyes wide with wild panic. “You have twelve million dollars, Meline! You sold that company! You can fix this with a single signature! You can buy out the debt, take a controlling stake in Vance Development, and save us!”
I set my fork down slowly. The quiet clink of silver against porcelain echoed in the small room.
“Why would I save you, Richard?” I asked, my voice chillingly soft.
“Because I am your father!” he screamed, tears of frustration finally filling his eyes. “I gave you a home! I raised you! We are blood!”
“You didn't raise a daughter,” I said, leaning back in my leather chair and looking at him with utter detachment. “You raised a contingency plan. You ignored me when I succeeded, you dismissed me when I spoke, and the second you fell into trouble, you conspired with my fiancé and my sister to steal what I earned.”
“We were desperate!” Dad pleaded, dropping his hands, his posture completely caving in. “The market collapsed! I was trying to save our lifestyle! Your mother couldn't handle losing the house! Sydney was pregnant!”
“And so you decided to destroy me instead,” I said.
Dad swallowed hard, his lips trembling. “What do you want from me, Meline? What do you want? I’ll apologize on my knees! I’ll fire Jason! I’ll publicly admit I was wrong! Just save the company. It’s my life’s work!”
“Your life’s work was built on credit, lies, and arrogance,” I said, standing up from the table. “And just like any poorly constructed foundation, it was always destined to collapse. I’m not throwing you a lifeline, Richard. I’m buying the debt.”
Dad blinked, bewildered. “What?”
Elias pulled a document from his leather portfolio and slid it across the table toward my father.
“Miss Vance purchased the note on your primary commercial mortgage from First Capital forty-five minutes ago,” Elias explained smoothly. “She is now your primary creditor. And as of 5:00 PM today, she is initiating formal foreclosure proceedings against Vance Development Group.”
Dad stared at the paper as if it were a death warrant. His hands shook violently as he read the legal heading.
May you like
“You… you bought my debt?” Dad whispered, looking up at me in terror.
“I own your company now, Dad,” I said, stepping closer to him until I was looking him directly in the eyes. “And my first executive order as owner is to liquidate every single asset you possess.”
