The Heiress’s Reckoning: Canceling the $500M Trust Chapter 15

The Heiress’s Reckoning: Canceling the $500M Trust Chapter 15: The Office Confrontation

“Where is it, Chloe?”

Static crackled through the wireless earpiece. I tapped the volume dial on my console. The receptionist at Zenith had tucked the micro-transmitter beneath a fake potted fern near Marcus’s desk thirty minutes ago.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Chloe answered. Her voice trembled.

A heavy thud echoed through the feed. Wood splintering.

“Do not lie to me!” Marcus screamed. “The gold corporate seal. I checked the apartment. I checked the vault here. It is gone!”

“Marcus, you are scaring me.”

“I cannot sign the Miller extension without the stamp!” Papers rustled violently. A glass object shattered against a wall. “Where did you put it?”

I leaned back in my leather chair. Julian stood by the window, watching the city skyline.

“She is backed into a corner,” Julian noted.

“She will crack,” I replied. “Listen.”

Through the earpiece, Chloe let out a sharp sob. “We had nothing left!”

Dead silence fell over Marcus’s office.

“What did you do?” Marcus asked. His tone dropped completely flat.

“The credit cards bounced!” Chloe cried. “The country club threatened to post our delinquent account on the public notice board. I had to maintain our image!”

“What. Did. You. Do.”

“I took it to a lender!” she wailed. “A man in the diamond district. He gave me fifty grand for the gold weight. It is not the first time, all right? I have been borrowing from those people for months, signing your name, just to keep us afloat until your funding came through!”

“You pawned my company seal to a loan shark? How much do we owe these people, Chloe?”

“I collateralized it! I was protecting our lifestyle! It is only a few million—they said the interest would not matter once Zenith paid out!”

“You stupid, arrogant bitch!”

*Smack.*

The sharp, vicious crack of skin striking skin exploded through the audio feed.

Chloe shrieked. A heavy thud followed, like a body hitting the edge of a mahogany desk and tumbling to the carpet.

I ripped the earpiece from my ear.

The tiny device bounced across my glass desk and skidded to a halt.

A violent wave of nausea surged up my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, crossing my arms over my desk and pressing my forehead hard against my knuckles. The metal edge of my watch bit into my skin.

Ten years.

A memory flashed, uninvited. Our first anniversary in a cramped studio apartment. He accidentally bumped my shoulder while carrying a pot of boiling pasta. He dropped the pot, ruined our only dinner, and spent twenty minutes apologizing with tears in his eyes for startling me.

That man was dead. In his place stood a rabid animal, lashing out at the very woman he destroyed our family to keep.

My stomach churned. I swallowed hard, forcing the bile down.

“Madam President?” Julian stepped away from the window. “Are you unwell?”

I lifted my head. I unclasped my hands and wiped my palms on my velvet skirt.

“I am fine.” I cleared my throat. “The facade just completely broke.”

Julian glanced at the discarded earpiece. “He struck her?”

“He hit rock bottom.” I turned my attention to the secondary monitor on my desk. It displayed the live security feed from Zenith’s executive hallway. “Where is Brandt?”

“Waiting in the lobby,” Julian answered.

“Send him in.”

Julian raised his two-way radio. “Mr. Brandt. Execute the delivery.”

On the screen, a tall man in a charcoal suit stepped out of the elevator. Nathaniel Brandt, the lead liquidation attorney for the Consortium, carried a single manila envelope. He did not pause to speak to the receptionist. He bypassed the security turnstiles and marched straight down the corridor.

I unmuted the video feed.

Inside Marcus’s office, Chloe sat on the floor, clutching her reddened cheek. Mascara streaked down her face.

Marcus stood over her, his fists clenched at his sides. His chest heaved.

“Get out,” Marcus snarled.

“You hit me,” Chloe whispered, staring up at him in shock.

“Get out of my office before I call security!”

The frosted glass door swung open.

Brandt stepped into the room. He took one look at the weeping woman on the floor and the enraged man standing above her. The lawyer’s expression remained perfectly blank.

“Marcus Vance?” Brandt asked.

Marcus spun around. “Who the hell are you? How did you get past my front desk?”

“I represent the acquisition firm handling Horizon Tech.” Brandt walked forward. He did not offer his hand. Instead, he pulled a thick stack of legal documents from his envelope and dropped them onto the center of Marcus’s desk.

Marcus stared at the papers. “What is this?”

“Horizon Tech just dropped their enterprise software pricing by sixty percent across the board,” Brandt stated. “Your remaining clients, including Gregson and Miller, have already initiated contract termination protocols.”

“No.” Marcus grabbed the edge of the desk. “Miller promised me an extension. He promised!”

“Miller signed with Horizon ten minutes ago,” Brandt corrected. “Zenith is now operating at a fatal deficit. Your creditors have called in their debts.”

Chloe scrambled to her feet. She backed away toward the window, her hands covering her mouth.

“I have investors!” Marcus shouted. Spit flew from his lips. “I have a bridge loan coming! You cannot liquidate my company!”

“The liquidation is already authorized by your primary debt holder.” Brandt tapped the top page of the document stack. “I suggest you read the filing, Mr. Vance. You have twenty-four hours to vacate the premises.”

Brandt turned on his heel and exited the office. The glass door clicked shut behind him.

Silence suffocated the room.

Marcus stood frozen. His hands trembled violently. He reached out and dragged the heavy stack of papers toward him.

I leaned closer to my monitor. My pulse pounded in my ears.

He flipped the cover page open.

His eyes scanned the dense legal text, searching for a loophole, a mistake, a lifeline.

Then, his gaze locked onto the bolded header at the top of the second page. The section detailing the ultimate holding entity of the acquisition firm.

Marcus stopped breathing.

The color drained from his face, leaving his skin the shade of dirty ash. The paper crumpled in his tightening grip.

He stared at the single word printed in massive black ink.

Wentworth.