Chapter 3 - The Collapse of the Vances
While Della rested safely under the care of the top medical team in New York, a different kind of storm was tearing through the upper crust of high society.
At 2:00 a.m., inside the sprawling Vance family mansion in Long Island, chaos reigned supreme.
Arthur Vance sat at his mahogany desk, frantically dialing phone numbers, only to be met with automated disconnections or cold, abrupt hangs-ups from former business partners. Beside him, his father, Richard Vance—the founder of Vance Global Real Estate—was pacing the floor, his face red with apoplectic fury.
"You fool! You absolute, brainless fool!" Richard roared, slamming a heavy crystal decanter onto the desk, shattering it to pieces. "Do you have any idea what you've done?! Jaxson Thorne just liquidated our primary credit line! The city inspectors just revoked our building permits for the Hudson Yards project!"
"It wasn't me, Dad!" Arthur cried out, clutching his head in panic. "It was Cordelia! She shoved some pregnant waitress in the hotel lobby!"
Cordelia sat on the velvet sofa in the corner, her makeup ruined by tears, her hand still swollen from Arthur's slap. "How was I supposed to know a pathetic waitress was connected to Jaxson Thorne?! She spilled wine on my dress!"
"I don't care if she spilled blood on your dress!" Richard screamed, stepping up to Cordelia and pointing a trembling finger at her face. "Jaxson Thorne isn't just a businessman, you ignorant girl! He controls the logistics, the unions, and the underground infrastructure of this entire coast! If he marks us as enemies, we aren't just bankrupt—we are finished!"
Before Cordelia could argue back, the heavy double doors of the study were thrown open.
Four men in sharp, charcoal-gray suits walked into the room without knocking. The man leading them was Marcus, Jaxson Thorne’s chief legal counsel and personal fixer—a man known in legal circles as the "Executioner."
"Richard Vance," Marcus spoke in a smooth, unemotional tone, opening a thick leather briefcase. "As of midnight, Thorne Enterprises has acquired ninety-eight percent of your family’s outstanding debt from municipal banks."
Marcus pulled out a stack of heavy legal documents, sliding them across the desk.
"This is an eviction notice for this estate, effective at 8:00 a.m. today. This is a court order freezing all personal and corporate bank accounts pending a federal tax audit initiated by our legal team. And this..." Marcus pulled out a USB drive, setting it on the table. "...is the raw, unedited 4K security footage from the Ashworth Grand lobby."
Cordelia went deathly pale. "The... the video?"
"The video clearly shows Miss Vance committing unprovoked aggravated assault against a visibly pregnant woman," Marcus explained calmly. "Our firm has already filed formal criminal charges with the District Attorney's office. Warrant officers are currently en route to this address."
"No... please!" Cordelia sobbed, scrambling off the couch and throwing herself at Marcus's feet. "Please, talk to Mr. Thorne! I'll apologize! I'll drop on my knees and beg that waitress for forgiveness! Just don't ruin my life!"
Marcus looked down at her with pure, unadulterated coldness.
"Miss Vance," Marcus said quietly. "Mr. Thorne gave specific instructions regarding your request for an apology."
May you like
He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a chilling whisper.
"He said your apology is worth less than the glass you shattered. Have a pleasant morning."
