Chapter 4 - Frozen Accounts
Laurent did not make a scene immediately. He had catered for Russian oligarchs and Manhattan socialites; he knew that technical glitches occurred. But when he tried the secondary Whitmore commercial backup card and received an immediate terminal prompt that read: *ACCOUNT CLOSED BY ORDER OF TRUSTEE*, cold sweat broke along the back of his collar.
He walked swiftly through the sea of tuxedos and backless dresses, making a beeline for Ethan, who was currently receiving handshakes from the president of the New York Stock Exchange.
"Mr. Whitmore," Laurent whispered, his French accent sharpening with tension as he pulled Ethan aside. "Pardon me, sir. We have an urgent administrative difficulty."
Ethan frowned, visibly annoyed at being interrupted during his victory lap. "What is it, Laurent? The truffles aren't fresh?"
"The billing terminals have rejected all corporate payment methods for tonight's balance," Laurent said under his breath. "The remaining four hundred and eighty thousand dollars due upon commencement of service cannot be authorized. The system indicates the accounts are closed."
Ethan let out an arrogant, dismissive scoff. "Don't be ridiculous. First National maintains a twenty-million-dollar rolling line for Whitmore Logistics. Your card reader is broken."
"Sir, my accountant just spoke directly to the night manager at the merchant processing clearinghouse," Laurent persisted, his voice turning icy. "The accounts were liquidated and frozen by executive order of the primary shareholder at three forty-five today. If payment is not secured immediately, union regulations require my staff to cease operations and withdraw the service."
Margaret saw the tension and glided over, her emerald gown rustling dramatically. "Ethan, what is going on? Why is the catering staff standing idle near the champagne towers?"
"It’s nothing, Mother. A minor banking error," Ethan said, pulling out his personal platinum card and handing it to Laurent. "Run this. Put the whole half million on it. We will sort out the corporate balance on Monday."
Laurent took the heavy metal card, stepped toward the portable terminal on the marble sideboard, and swiped it.
Three seconds passed.
A harsh, metallic beep pierced the air. The small screen flashed red once more: *TRANSACTION DECLINED — CONTACT ISSUER CODE 04.*
Margaret’s eyes widened with pure outrage. "Are you insulting us, young man? Do you have any idea who we are? Ethan, call Donald at the private banking desk right this instant! Have this insolent caterer fired and replaced!"
Ethan pulled out his custom iPhone, dialed his private wealth manager’s direct cell, and put the phone to his ear. The phone rang twice before Donald answered, sounding completely rattled.
"Donald! What the hell is going on with my credit lines?" Ethan snapped, walking toward the terrace doors to escape the surrounding din. "The catering card just threw a fraud flag at my own engagement party!"
"Ethan..." Donald’s voice sounded hollow, like a man speaking from the bottom of an empty well. "Where are you?"
"I’m in the ballroom at Crestview! Where do you think I am?"
"You need to listen to me very carefully," Donald whispered, his breath catching. "Claire walked into our Manhattan branch at eleven this morning accompanied by Arthur Vance and two forensic accounting partners from PriceWaterhouse."
Ethan went dead silent. "What are you talking about?"
"She exercised Clause 9 of the 2021 Restructuring Deed," Donald said, his voice trembling. "The infidelity indemnity clause. Ethan, she brought six months of encrypted WhatsApp logs between you and Vanessa, receipts for three penthouses in Miami, gynecological bills from Vanessa’s private OB-GYN billed to the corporate account, and airline tickets purchased with the logistics fund."
"That’s private corporate business!" Ethan snarled, his voice rising in panic. "She has no legal right to touch the heritage assets!"
"You fool!" Donald finally lost his composure. "What heritage assets? You signed everything over to the Claire Henderson Revocable Trust to escape the SEC fraud charges three years ago! You haven't owned a single share of Whitmore Logistics since 2021! The mansion, the bank accounts, the fleet, the furniture—she owns all of it! She filed the breach of trust petition at noon! Every dime you thought was yours belongs entirely to your wife!"
May you like
The phone slipped a fraction of an inch through Ethan’s numb fingers. The grand ballroom, with its glittering chandeliers and laughing guests, suddenly looked like a slaughterhouse painted in gold.
***
