Chapter 2 - The House of Cards
Before Eleanor even lowered the phone, Julian’s pocket began to vibrate. Then, a guest’s phone went off. Then another. Within ten seconds, the grand ballroom sounded like a chaotic symphony of ringtones and frantic notification chimes.
Julian scrambled to pull his phone out, his hands shaking so violently he dropped it twice. When he finally answered, the hysterical voice of his Chief Financial Officer screamed through the speaker, loud enough for the first three rows of guests to hear.
"Julian! Everything is gone! The Sterling accounts just pulled out. Every single one! The banks are calling in our loans, the stock is plummeting, they’re shorting us into oblivion! Julian, the feds are raiding the downtown office right now! We are bankrupt! It’s over!"
The phone slipped from Julian’s fingers, clattering against the marble. The screen cracked, a fitting metaphor for his life. In less than sixty seconds, his net worth had gone from three billion dollars to zero. Actually, less than zero. With the loans called in, he would be hundreds of millions in debt.
"Julian?" Vivian asked, her voice trembling as the reality of the situation began to slowly piece itself together in her shallow mind. "Julian, what is going on? Who is this woman? Tell her to stop this nonsense right now!"
Julian slowly turned his head to look at the woman he was supposed to marry in an hour. His eyes, previously filled with lust and pride, were now brimming with absolute, venomous hatred.
He lunged forward.
Smack!
The sound of Julian’s backhand across Vivian’s face was twice as loud as the slap she had delivered to Eleanor. Vivian spun like a top, crashing into a towering floral arrangement of white orchids, taking the glass vase down with her. Water, flowers, and shattered glass rained over her ruined Vera Wang dress.
"You stupid, arrogant bitch!" Julian roared, spit flying from his lips. "Do you know what you’ve done?! You just slapped Eleanor Sterling! You just destroyed my life!"
Vivian lay on the floor, clutching her rapidly swelling cheek, sobbing hysterically. "Daddy! Daddy, do something!"
Arthur Kensington, Vivian’s father and a prominent real estate mogul, pushed through the crowd. He was sweating profusely, his phone glued to his ear. "Mr. Vance! What is the meaning of this? You strike my daughter—"
Arthur stopped talking as his own phone call connected. The color drained from his face just as it had from Julian's. "What do you mean the permits are revoked? What do you mean the Sterling Group is hostile taking over the Kensington Trust? No! Stop them!" Arthur dropped his phone, clutching his chest as he stared at the elderly woman in the gray uniform.
Eleanor Sterling stood untouched amidst the chaos. She didn’t smile. She didn't gloat. She simply radiated absolute authority.
"Madam Sterling, please!" Julian crawled on his knees toward her, clasping his hands together like a man begging a god for salvation. "I had no part in this! I can divorce her right now! I won't marry her! Just please, leave my company alone! I beg of you!"
"A man who cannot control his own house, his own bride, and his own temper has no business controlling my money," Eleanor said coldly.
Suddenly, the doors of the banquet hall burst open again. A dozen men in sharp black suits, wearing earpieces, flooded into the room. They weren't police; they were Sterling International's private security detail, known in the underworld as the 'Wraiths.'
The lead security officer, a towering man with a scar over his left eye, approached Eleanor and bowed deeply. "Madam. Your car is ready. Are you injured?"
"I am fine, Marcus," Eleanor replied. She turned to leave, but her eyes caught movement in the crowd.
Claire Montgomery was trying to slip out the side exit. Her champagne glass was abandoned on a table, her earlier smirk replaced by stark terror. She knew if Vivian and Julian were sinking, anyone associated with them was going down with the ship.
"Stop her," Eleanor commanded softly.
Two men in black suits instantly materialized in front of Claire, blocking the exit. Claire gasped, stumbling backward in her Louboutins.
Eleanor slowly walked over to where Claire was cornered. The crowd parted for her like the Red Sea. Eleanor looked Claire up and down, noting the expensive jewelry and the trembling lip.
"I saw you, Miss Montgomery," Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I saw you smile when she struck me. You enjoyed it. You thrive on the degradation of those you deem lesser than you."
"N-No! I swear!" Claire stammered, tears ruining her expensive makeup. "I didn't do anything! I didn't touch you! Please!"
"Inaction in the face of cruelty is a choice, and enjoying it is a sin," Eleanor stated flatly. She didn't look back as she addressed her head of security. "Marcus, the Montgomery family. What do they do?"
Marcus tapped a tablet in his hand. "Logistics and shipping, Madam. They heavily rely on our ports."
"Not anymore," Eleanor said. "Revoke their port access globally. Let their ships rot in the ocean."
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Claire let out a blood-curdling scream, sinking to her knees, tearing at her own hair. In less than five minutes, Eleanor Sterling had eradicated three of the city’s most powerful families without raising a finger, armed with nothing but a cheap flip-phone and her terrifying influence.
Eleanor turned her back on the weeping billionaires. As she walked down the center aisle—the very aisle Vivian was supposed to walk down to get married—she didn't look back. The doors closed behind her, leaving Julian, Vivian, and Claire trapped in the ruins of their own arrogance.
