Chapter 3 - The Gathering of the Ghosts
Back in Chicago, the rain had started.
Clara stood in the center of the Grand Lakeshore Hotel ballroom. The space was magnificent—towering crystal chandeliers hung from the twenty-foot ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow over the empty parquet floor. The stage was set for the twelve-piece jazz band, their instruments sitting silently in their cases.
Standing beside her was Harrison Vance, the general manager of the hotel, and his head of catering. They both looked nervous. They had heard the rumors currently sweeping the Chicago real estate market—that Vale Enterprises was on the verge of a sudden, catastrophic collapse.
"Mrs. Vale," Harrison said, his voice quiet. "I... I don't know how to say this, but the corporate card we had on file for the event banquet was declined this morning. The total outstanding balance for the room rental, the champagne, and the staff is three hundred and eighty thousand dollars. If we don't receive payment by noon, we will be forced to cancel the event and lock the doors."
Clara looked at him. She was no longer wearing her faded overalls or her oversized kitchen sweaters.
She wore a bespoke, emerald-green silk gown that clung to her elegant frame. Her dark hair was styled in a classic, sophisticated chignon, and around her neck hung a flawless, sixteen-carat diamond pendant that had belonged to her grandmother. She looked like royalty. She looked like a woman who had never seen a county fair in her life.
"I understand, Harrison," Clara said, her voice smooth and entirely calm. "But the event is not canceled."
She reached into her small, embroidered clutch and pulled out a sleek, heavy gold card. It did not carry the name Vale.
It carried the name Bennett Holdings.
"Run this," Clara said, handing it to him. "And please ensure the champagne is the vintage Krug, not the standard Brut my husband selected. I want my guests to have the very best."
Harrison took the card. He looked at the name, and his eyes widened. As the manager of Chicago’s premier luxury hotel, he knew exactly who Bennett Holdings was. They owned the land the hotel was built on.
"Of... of course, Ms. Bennett," Harrison stammered, his posture instantly shifting from professional polite to deep, deferential respect. "I will handle it personally. The doors will open at seven."
"Thank you, Harrison," Clara smiled.
She turned and walked out of the ballroom, her silk train rustling behind her.
She had a busy afternoon ahead of her. She had invited several very important people to the party—people Preston had spent years trying to secure meetings with, people who had always ignored his calls because they considered him a vulgar, social-climbing upstart.
She had called David Sterling, the patriarch of Sterling Global, the largest shipping and logistics conglomerate in the Midwest. She had called Senator Thomas Vance, her father’s oldest friend. She had called the managing editors of the Chicago Tribune and the Wall Street Journal’s business section.
They had all accepted her invitation. Not because of Preston Vale.
But because Clara Bennett had called them personally.
Sitting in the back of her private town car, Clara opened her laptop once more. She received a ping from her security team.
"Ms. Bennett," the message read. "Preston Vale and Marjorie Vale have just booked an emergency economy-class flight from Athens to Chicago using a high-interest credit card Marjorie had hidden in her travel wallet. They are scheduled to land at O'Hare at 5:30 PM."
Clara smiled. She could picture it perfectly—Preston, the great CEO, sitting in a cramped middle seat between screaming toddlers, sweating through his designer linen shirt, while Marjorie clutched her head in horror at the lack of first-class service.
"Let them come," Clara whispered to the rain-slicked window. "The stage is set."
She spent the next three hours finalizing the acquisition documents. Through Apex Capital, she had launched a hostile, non-negotiable buyout of all outstanding public shares of Vale Enterprises. Because the company’s credit had been frozen and its construction sites halted, the stock price was currently plummeting like a stone.
By the time Preston’s plane touched down in Chicago, Vale Enterprises would no longer belong to the Vale family.
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It would be a wholly-owned subsidiary of Bennett Holdings.
And Clara would be the one holding the pen.
