Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House of Sterling
The sight of Victoria Sterling being handcuffed in her three-thousand-dollar evening gown while crying hysterically for her lawyers was beamed across every major news network in North America within minutes. The footage of her being escorted into a police cruiser in front of the St. Regis was the front-page headline of every financial and tabloid paper in the country.
While Victoria spent her night in a holding cell, Carter was left to face the immediate financial fallout.
By 8:00 a.m. the following morning, Sterling Enterprises had lost seventy percent of its market value. The board of directors held an emergency session and voted unanimously to strip Carter of his position as Chief Executive Officer. Every major bank, led by Vance Global Financial, canceled their credit lines and called in over four hundred million dollars in outstanding debt, demanding immediate repayment.
I sat in the corner office on the top floor of the Vance Global Tower, sipping dark coffee as Frank presented the morning report.
“Carter Sterling has spent the last six hours trying to sell off family real estate to meet the margin calls,” Frank reported, dropping a binder on my desk. “His mistress, Chloe Vance, dumped him at 4:00 a.m. after discovering that her own father cut her off for associating with the Sterlings.”
“What about the Sterling family mansion in Westchester?” I asked, leaning back in my leather chair.
“It’s mortgaged to the hilt,” Frank replied with a thin smile. “Vance Global bought up the primary debt note from the original lender an hour ago. You now own the mortgage, Ms. Vance.”
“Good,” I said, standing up and pulling on a dark wool trench coat. “Let's go pay my ex-husband a visit.”
When our motorcade arrived at the gates of the sprawling Sterling estate in Westchester, the property was already in chaos. Moving vans were parked near the grand entrance, and servants were hastily packing up luxury items while Carter frantically shouted into his phone on the front porch.
His clothes were wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot, and he smelled heavily of cheap scotch.
When he saw my black SUV pull up, he dropped his phone and rushed down the marble steps toward me, his face a mixture of desperation, anger, and pathetic remorse.
“Emma!” he yelled, reaching out toward me before two of my grandfather’s bodyguards stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Emma, please! You have to stop this! They’ve frozen my accounts! The board took my company! My mother is facing twenty years in federal prison for kidnapping and bribery!”
I stepped past the guards, stopping three feet from him. I lowered my sunglasses, looking at him with absolute indifference.
“You look tired, Carter,” I said softly.
“Emma, I was forced into this!” he pleaded, falling to his knees on the cold pavement, clutching at the hem of my coat with trembling hands. “It was my mother! Victoria planned the whole thing! She threatened to disinherit me if I didn't get rid of you and marry Chloe! I loved you, Emma! I still love you and our daughter!”
I looked down at the man I had once believed was my protector, the man whose soft promises had won my heart two years ago. Seeing him kneeling in the dirt, begging like a dog, filled me with neither pity nor satisfaction—only a deep, clean clarity.
“You threw a three-day-old infant into a snowbank, Carter,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper that made him shiver. “You stood there, dragged me by my hair, and told me to die. You didn't care if Lily froze to death as long as you kept your money.”
“I’m sorry! I’ll do anything!” he sobbed, tears rolling down his dirt-streaked face. “Give me another chance! I’ll be a good father to Lily! We can be a family again!”
“You will never see Lily again,” I said coldly. “The family court judge signed a permanent restraining order an hour ago, stripping you of all parental rights based on the evidence of attempted murder and child endangerment.”
I pulled a thick document from my coat pocket and tossed it onto the ground in front of his face.
May you like
“What’s... what’s this?” he stammered, staring at the paper.
“It’s an eviction notice,” I replied. “Vance Global owns the mortgage on this estate, and we are foreclosing immediately. You have thirty minutes to clear your personal belongings off my property.”
