Chapter 7 - The Wrath of Vanessa
Three miles away, in a suite at the Crescent Hotel, the atmosphere was violent.
Julian threw a crystal tumbler against the marble fireplace, sending shards of glass and bourbon scattering across the antique rug. His tailored shirt was unbuttoned, his face red with fury.
"How could the accounts be empty?!" he roared, turning on Vanessa. "You said your father’s legal team had secured the offshore diversion! The sheriff threw me out of my own building! Elena took everything—the keys, the bonds, the Mercer lease!"
Vanessa sat on the chaise lounge, smoking a slim cigarette. Unlike Julian, she was not screaming. Her eyes were narrow, venomous, and focused on her open laptop.
"Stop whining like a coward," Vanessa snapped, her voice like ice. "You were supposed to make her sign the unconditional transfer. Why did you waste time cutting her hair like a petty schoolboy? You should have broken her fingers until she signed the Zurich release!"
"I wanted to humiliate her!" Julian shouted, gripping his head in his hands. "She was looking down on me! For fourteen years she looked at me like I was just the clerk her mother hired! I wanted to show her that without her hair, without her poise, she was nothing!"
"Well, your little display cost us ninety million dollars," Vanessa said coldly. "Because while you were playing salon bully, she had an forensic auditor draining our clearing house."
Julian froze, staring at her. "What did you say?"
"A wire just landed in Apex Crest," Vanessa said, turning the laptop screen toward him. "Forty million dollars from The Sterling Group. My father’s old accounts."
Julian’s eyes lit up with sudden, manic greed. "Forty million? Then we won! We can transfer it to the Cayman account and leave tonight!"
"You idiot," Vanessa hissed, standing up and slapping Julian across the face with a sharp, resounding crack. "Apex Crest is seized! Elena’s lawyer executed the UCC lien an hour ago! Elena Vance owns Apex Crest now! She owns that forty million!"
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Julian stumbled back, clutching his cheek, his face pale. "No... no, that can't be. That money belongs to us!"
"It belongs to whoever holds the primary corporate seal," Vanessa said, picking up her phone. "And if Elena Vance thinks she can take my father's legacy, she is going to learn that a bad haircut is the least dangerous thing Julian could have done to her."