Chapter 7 - The Debt Falls Due
If a bomb had detonated in the middle of the St. Clair Estate foyer, the devastation could not have been more total.
The socialites who had gathered to watch what they thought would be the humiliating eviction of an impoverished interloper were now staring at Victoria and Richard Holloway like they were watching an execution. Cell phones that had been subtly recording the drama were lowered slightly, but the red recording lights remained on. Society columnists who had spent the last hour ignoring Victoria’s desperate bids for attention were suddenly scribbling furious notes on their digital pads.
“Richard?” Victoria turned on her husband, grabbing the lapels of his tuxedo jacket with both hands, shaking him. Her manicured facade was completely disintegrating. Sweat was breaking through her matte foundation, leaving shiny tracks down her temples. “What is she talking about? What default notice? Tell her she’s lying! Tell everyone she’s lying!”
Richard didn’t fight back. He looked like a man who had just watched his parachute fail at ten thousand feet.
“She’s not lying, Victoria,” Richard whispered, his voice broken and hollow. “It’s over.”
“What do you mean it’s over?!”
“Aurelius bought our corporate bonds four months ago,” Richard said, his voice carrying clearly to the surrounding crowd. “Dad thought we were dealing with an anonymous Swiss consortium. We were underwater by thirty million after the supply chain collapses last spring. If the debt isn’t restructured... Holloway Maritime goes into receivership. We lose the house in Newport. We lose the townhouse. We lose everything.”
Victoria stumbled backward, releasing her grip on him as if he had turned into a corpse. She looked at Eleanor, seeking the safe harbor of their shared delusion, but our mother was completely paralyzed. Eleanor had built her entire social existence upon the bedrock of Victoria’s marriage to a Holloway. She had bragged at every tea party, every tennis match, every charity brunch about how her eldest daughter had secured their family’s rightful place at the summit of society.
And now, the foundation had vanished in an instant.
“You...” Victoria turned toward me, her teeth bared, tears of pure, unadulterated venom spilling over her mascara. “You did this. You deliberately hid this from us! You let me sit at family dinners listening to us talk about your little job, your little car, your little life—you sat there and said nothing!”
“I didn’t hide anything,” I replied, my voice steady, cool, and echoing off the vaulted stone. “You simply never asked. When you asked what I did, I told you I worked in capital asset management. You laughed and said it sounded tedious. When Mother asked why I drove an older car, I told her I preferred to allocate my capital toward productive investments rather than depreciating status symbols. She told me I was embarrassing the family.”
I took a single step toward Victoria. She instinctively flinched, stepping back until her spine hit the mahogany registration desk.
“You spent your whole life confusing the price tag of things with their value,” I continued, every word landing like a hammer blow. “You married a name because you couldn't build one of your own. You bullied service staff, you mocked people who worked for an honest living, and you treated your own sister like dirt because you thought your proximity to wealth gave you the right to be cruel.”
“Maya, please...” Eleanor finally found her voice, but it was no longer the voice of the haughty matriarch. It was thin, reedy, and pathetic. She took a trembling step toward me, reaching out with both hands. “Maya, darling... we’re family. Blood is thicker than water. Whatever misunderstandings have happened... surely we can discuss this in private? We are your mother and sister!”
May you like
I looked at Eleanor. I looked into the eyes of the woman who had watched Victoria torment me for twenty years and smiled because Victoria looked prettier doing it.
“When you walked up to this desk ten minutes ago, Mother, you asked security to have me thrown out through the kitchen service corridor so I wouldn’t embarrass you,” I said, my voice utterly devoid of warmth. “You didn't care about family then. You cared about the opinions of strangers who wouldn't even remember your name if you lost your money tomorrow.”
