Chapter 6 - A Cold Bed and a Frozen Account
By midnight, the gala had dissolved into absolute chaos. The caterers were quietly packing up untouched plates of Chilean sea bass, while the city's most prominent PR consultants huddled in the corners frantically typing damage-control statements on their phones.
Christopher sat alone in the backseat of his company Maybach, parked in the hotel's valet circle. He was sweating through his bespoke tuxedo shirt, frantically redialing his private wealth manager.
"Pick up, damn it," he snarled into the phone, slamming his fist against the leather armrest. "Pick up the phone, Marcus!"
Finally, the call connected. "Christopher," a tired, tense voice answered. "I told your assistant an hour ago, there’s nothing I can do."
"What do you mean there's nothing you can do?!" Christopher shouted, his voice cracking with hysteria. "My personal black card was declined at the hotel bar! I have fifty million dollars in the Zurich treasury account!"
"You had fifty million dollars, Christopher," Marcus replied coldly. "Those funds were cross-collateralized against Grand Horizon’s primary credit facilities. When the Department of Justice flagged the sixty-eight-million-dollar deficit this evening, the automated covenants triggered an immediate freeze. Furthermore, your wife—sorry, your former CEO—filed an emergency ex parte injunction freeze. You don't have access to fifty million dollars. You don't have access to fifty dollars."
"I am the Chairman!"
"You were voted out thirty minutes ago in an emergency digital board meeting," Marcus said bluntly. "Luke Vance held seventy-two percent of the voting proxies through the Vance Family Trust. They appointed Vivian as Interim Executive Chairwoman effective immediately. You are an unassigned minority shareholder under federal investigation. Good night, Christopher."
The line went dead.
Christopher stared at the black screen of his phone, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. He pounded the partition glass separating him from the driver. "Thomas! Drive us to the Beverly Hills estate. Right now!"
The driver didn't move. He kept his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Albright," the driver said quietly. "Mrs. Albright called five minutes ago. The vehicle belongs to Grand Horizon Corporate Fleet. She instructed me to return it to the corporate garage in Burbank. You will need to arrange your own transportation."
"You work for me!" Christopher roared.
"I work for whoever signs the payroll checks, sir," Thomas replied, stepping out of the car, opening the rear door, and standing back respectfully. "And your signature is no longer valid. Please exit the vehicle."
Christopher stepped out onto the cold concrete of the hotel driveway, the chill of the midnight air cutting straight through his jacket. A dozen paparazzi were still camped across the street, their lenses flashing relentlessly, capturing every humiliation. He held his hand up to block his face, stumbling toward the street corner like a common vagrant, desperately trying to hail a yellow cab that drove straight past him.
Meanwhile, forty miles away, in the quiet hills of Bel Air, Brenda Vance sat on a metal bench inside a federal holding cell.
The stolen silk gown had been stripped from her body, replaced by a coarse, oversized orange cotton jumpsuit. Her jewelry was gone, locked in an evidence vault. Her styled hair was tangled, her eyes rimmed with red. Across the steel table sat an assistant federal prosecutor, tapping a thick manila folder against the metal surface.
"Sixty-eight million dollars, Miss Vance," the prosecutor said casually. "Wire fraud carries twenty years per count. Forgery carries ten. And then there's the toxicology report coming back from Mrs. Albright's blood sample. Attempted manslaughter in the second degree carries another fifteen."
Brenda shook her head frantically, clutching her knees to her chest. "Christopher told me to do it! He said we would move to Switzerland! He said Vivian would sign whatever we gave her because she was weak! Please... I can testify against him! I can give you everything!"
The prosecutor offered a thin, pitying smile. "We don't need your testimony, Miss Vance. Luke Albright gave us five gigabytes of encrypted audio, signed ledger entries, and bank metadata three hours before you even walked into that ballroom."
May you like
He stood up, tucking the file under his arm.
"You gave up your freedom, your career, and your entire future for a man who claimed he didn't even know your last name the moment the handcuffs touched your wrists."
