Chapter 4 - The 4:00 PM Volley
At 3:30 PM, I returned to Daniel’s Tribeca loft.
Daniel was sitting at his drafting table, surrounded by blueprints, completely absorbed in his work. He looked up when I walked in, a warm smile breaking across his face.
"Hey, beautiful," he said, walking over to kiss me. "How was the dress fitting?"
"The dress fits perfectly," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Though your mother had a few... opinions."
Daniel sighed, kissing my forehead. "I know. She called me an hour ago, asking if we could 'reconsider' the venue catering. She said Maison Arden’s catering wing could handle it if we transferred the master event contract to the corporate office."
"And what did you say?"
"I told her no," Daniel said firmly, looking me in the eye. "I told her this is our wedding, not a corporate gala. I told her if she couldn't respect our choices, she didn't have to come."
My heart softened. Daniel wasn't weak; he was just holding out hope that his family would behave like human beings. He was standing up for me in the only way he knew how.
Now it was my job to make sure he didn't get crushed in the crossfire.
At 3:45 PM, across town in midtown Manhattan, the preliminary bombardment began.
Inside the corner office of Duvall & Moreau, Étienne Duvall was sitting at his mahogany desk, holding a phone in his hand, preparing to call the manager of Maison Arden to execute the cancellation of our wedding reservation.
Sitting across from him was Margot, sipping espresso from a porcelain cup.
"Do it now, Étienne," Margot said coldly in French. "Before Daniel calls the vendors himself. Once the reservation is cleared, we will announce at Saturday's benefit that the wedding has been postponed due to 'scheduling conflicts' with Claire’s military duties."
Étienne nodded, dialing the venue manager's private line. "Yes, hello, this is Étienne Duvall. I am calling regarding the master reservation for the Vance-Duvall event on Sunday—"
Before he could finish the sentence, his executive assistant burst into the office without knocking, her face pale.
"Mr. Duvall! Stop!" she gasped, holding a red-flagged document.
Étienne frowned angrily. "What is the meaning of this, Brigitte?"
"It’s the Department of Defense Inspector General’s Office!" Brigitte stammered, handing him the faxed notice. "And Sterling & Vance! Their senior partner is on line one!"
Étienne picked up line one, his voice tight. "Étienne Duvall here."
"Étienne, this is Arthur Vance," the booming voice of the lead corporate compliance attorney rang out through the speakerphone. "What the hell is going on over there?"
"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Étienne demanded.
"We just received a formal Notice of Compliance Freeze from the DoD procurement division!" Arthur barked. "They have placed an immediate audit hold on our $12 million Fort Belvoir bid! They cite unauthorized use of corporate credit lines and potential financial coercion involving federal personnel!"
Margot dropped her espresso cup. The dark liquid splashed across the beige Persian rug.
"What?" Étienne yelled, standing up. "That’s absurd! What federal personnel?"
"Captain Claire Vance!" Arthur yelled back. "The active-duty Army officer your son is marrying! Did you or did you not just attempt to use Duvall & Moreau corporate funds to manipulate or cancel contracts associated with an active military officer?"
Étienne looked at Margot, his hands beginning to shake. "I... I was simply managing an event deposit!"
"Listen to me very carefully, Étienne," Arthur stated with terrifying clarity. "If you touch that venue contract, if you move one dollar of corporate money to interfere with Captain Vance, the federal hold becomes a formal criminal compliance audit. The Armed Forces Pension Trust will freeze their $40 million investment in your Hudson Yards project by midnight. Do you understand me?"
Étienne’s breath caught in his throat. His entire life’s work—his firm, his reputation, his $40 million expansion—was hanging by a thread over a wedding venue deposit.
"I... I understand," Étienne whispered.
"Cancel the cancellation, Étienne. Right now. And do not breathe near that girl until this federal window closes."
The line went dead.
In the office, the silence was deafening.
May you like
Margot sat frozen on the sofa, her face white as chalk. Étienne slowly put the receiver down, turning to his wife with an expression of pure, unadulterated terror.
"What did you make me do, Margot?" Étienne roared, his voice trembling with rage. "Who is this girl?"
