Chapter 2 - The Legal Guillotine
Mason walked down the center aisle of the ballroom with the purposeful stride of a man who owned the floor he walked upon.
The whispers died down again as people recognized him,
the lead counsel for Summit Ridge Bank and the heir to the Hartwell fortune.
He didn't go to the stage,
instead,
he walked straight to our table and stood behind Preston,
placing a heavy hand on my husband’s shoulder.
Preston jumped,
nearly knocking over his water glass,
and looked up at my brother with eyes that were wide with terror.
"Mason,"
Preston stammered,
his voice cracking like dry parchment,
"this isn't the time or the place."
"On the contrary,
Preston,"
Mason said,
his voice amplified by the sudden hush of the room,
"this is exactly the place for a public accounting."
Sloane,
sensing the shift in power,
tried to regain control of the room by speaking into the microphone again.
"Is this the part where the family tries to buy my silence?"
she mocked,
tossing her hair back with a flourish.
Mason didn't even look at her,
treating her as if she were a piece of background furniture that had accidentally made a noise.
He opened his briefcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper,
placing it on the table in front of Preston.
"This is a notice of immediate foreclosure on the Hale Group’s primary assets,"
Mason announced,
his voice carrying to the back rows of the gala.
"Since the collateral for your loans was provided by the Hartwell Trust,
and since you have breached the moral turpitude clause of our agreement,
the trust has triggered its right to reclaim all property."
Preston’s hand shook as he reached for the paper,
his fingers fumbling with the edges.
"You can't do this,"
he whispered,
"the Westbridge project is halfway through construction,
millions are at stake."
"The Westbridge project,"
Mason replied coolly,
"has been purchased by a private equity firm as of five minutes ago."
"Who?"
Preston asked,
his voice barely audible.
Mason looked at me,
and the smile I had been holding back finally reached my eyes.
"My sister,"
Mason said.
The room gasped in unison,
the sound like a collective intake of breath before a plunge.
Sloane’s face turned from triumph to a sickly,
pale yellow as she realized that the man she had 'won' was currently being stripped of everything he owned.
She had spent months picking out a penthouse that now belonged to me.
She had spent thousands on a wardrobe charged to credit cards that were being deactivated at this very second.
She was standing on a stage in a dress that hadn't been paid for,
wearing earrings that were part of a Hartwell set I had reported as stolen that morning.
I stood up slowly,
smoothing the silk of my navy gown,
feeling the weight of twelve years of marriage falling away like old skin.
"Sloane,"
I said,
my voice calm and clear,
"you wanted to announce that Preston belongs to you."
I took a step toward her,
the crowd parting like the Red Sea.
"You can have him,"
I continued,
"but you should know that he comes with forty million dollars in personal debt and a legal team that will be following you both for the next decade."
May you like
The microphone in Sloane’s hand let out a sharp,
piercing feedback squeal as her hand began to tremble.
