Chapter 2 - The Mask Comes Off
The rain washed over the city as my private town car glided up to the private residence on Grand Avenue.
Ten minutes later, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror inside the penthouse suit.
Julian stood silently behind me, presenting a velvet box containing the Tears of Artemis—a sixty-carat flawless blue diamond necklace that had belonged to my grandmother, the late founder of Vanguard’s core trust.
I wore a custom obsidian-black gown made of hand-poured silk that caught the light like spilled oil. My dark hair was sculpted into sharp, elegant waves, and my lips were painted a bold, dangerous red.
The tired, meek housewife named Elowen who wiped down kitchen counters had disappeared.
In her place stood Elowen Sterling. Sole executor of the Sterling Estate, primary shareholder of Vanguard Global, and the woman who held ninety percent of Prescott Logistics’ corporate debt.
“The financial reports for Prescott Logistics are ready, Chairwoman,” Julian said, handing me a thin leather binder. “Mr. Prescott has overleveraged his short-term credit by forty million dollars. He expects Vanguard to sign off on a fifty-million-dollar equity infusion tonight at the gala.”
“And who authorized the preliminary review?” I asked, sliding my rings onto my fingers.
“Victoria Vance,” Julian replied dryly. “She submitted the application on Mr. Prescott’s behalf, claiming she personally negotiated terms with Vanguard’s regional directors.”
A cold laugh escaped my lips. Victoria hadn't negotiated anything. She had simply schmoozed intermediate loan officers who didn't have the authority to sign a parking ticket without my approval.
“Weston thinks Prescott Logistics is his empire,” I murmured, looking at my reflection. “He told me tonight that everything I have is because I married him.”
Julian’s brow raised slightly. “A remarkably uninformed assessment, Madam.”
“He believes what he wants to believe, Julian. For eight years, I let him think I was nothing so he could feel like everything. I built his confidence. I covered his mistakes. When his shipments were seized in Hamburg, I cleared the customs holds with one phone call. When his bank accounts were frozen in 2021, I transferred twelve million dollars overnight.”
I turned around, the heavy silk of my dress rustling softly against the marble floor.
“And tonight, he told me I wasn't polished enough to sit at his table.”
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“The car is ready downstairs, Chairwoman,” Julian said with a bow. “The Metropolitan Opera House has opened its doors for the Meridian Gala. The press is outside.”
“Let’s go,” I said, pulling on my elbow-length velvet gloves. “It’s time to collect on my investment.”
