Chapter 5 - The Scramble
Across town in an executive suite at the St. Regis Hotel, Caleb Sterling was tearing the room apart.
Luggage lay open on the king-sized bed. Crystal glasses shattered against the marble fireplace as he hurled an empty scotch bottle across the room.
"What do you mean my cards are declined?!" Caleb roared into his smartphone, pacing back and forth across the suite. "I am a managing partner! Run the corporate black card again!"
A calm, robotic voice responded on the other end of the line. *"Mr. Sterling, all credit facilities linked to Vance Global and its subsidiaries have been suspended pending an independent audit by order of the executive chairwoman. Any further attempts to utilize these instruments will result in immediate fraud reporting."*
"Go to hell!" Caleb slammed the phone down onto the mattress.
Vanessa sat on the edge of an armchair, mascara running down her cheeks in dark rivulets, clutching her designer handbag like a life raft. "Caleb, the doorman at TriBeCa wouldn't even let me into the elevator! He said the police were already inside taking inventory! All my Birkin bags, my jewelry, my fur coats—they’re locked inside!"
"Shut your damn mouth, Vanessa!" Caleb snapped, turning on her with wild, bloodshot eyes. "You think I care about your damn purses right now? If those Swiss files reach the Southern District, I’m facing twenty-five years in federal prison!"
Vanessa flinched at the venom in his voice. For months, he had been the dashing, generous billionaire's son-in-law who showered her with gifts and promised her an empire. Now, stripped of his stolen wealth, he looked like a feral dog backed into a corner.
"We can go to the police first," Vanessa whimpered. "We can say Eleanor is unstable! Tell them she threatened us!"
"Don't be an idiot," Caleb growled, rubbing his temples. "Ellie has Harlan, and Harlan has every judge in this district on speed dial. Richard built a fortress around that girl before he died. But he made one mistake."
Caleb stopped pacing. A slow, sinister smile crept across his lips.
"What mistake?" Vanessa asked cautiously.
"The board," Caleb said, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "The old guard on the board might respect Richard’s ghost, but the younger hedge fund managers hold forty percent of the voting equity. They don't care about family loyalty; they care about margins. If I can convince them that Ellie's emotional volatility is a threat to the stock price before the opening bell tomorrow, we can call an emergency injunction. We can strip her voting rights under the incapacity statute."
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"Can you do that?"
"She’s pregnant, her father just died, and she made a scene at a cathedral," Caleb said, picking up his personal burner phone from the nightstand. "I’ll have a paid psychiatrist file an emergency evaluation warrant by midnight. By tomorrow morning, Eleanor won't be running Vance Global. She’ll be strapped to a bed in a private sanitarium."
