Chapter 7 - The Unravelling of the Crosses
While the Archer Meridian board was ratifying the restructuring agreement, a very different scene was unfolding at the penthouse suite of Cross International on Fifth Avenue.
Richard Cross, Vivienne’s father and the chief executive officer of Cross International, stood behind his massive glass desk, smashing his crystal whiskey tumbler against the wall.
“You foolish, arrogant girl!” Richard roared, his face purple with fury. “You kicked a housekeeper? You created a viral scene that was broadcast on every news channel in the world?”
Vivienne sat on the velvet sofa, her eyes red from crying, her expensive mascara smeared down her cheeks. “Dad, I didn't know who she was! She was wearing a gray apron! How was I supposed to know she was a multi-billionaire heir?”
“Because you don't look at people!” Richard screamed, pointing a shaking finger at her. “You treat everyone beneath your tax bracket like dirt! And now... look at this!”
He shoved his tablet onto the sofa beside her.
On the screen was a live broadcast from CNBC: CROSS INTERNATIONAL SHARES PLUMMET 45% FOLLOWING EXPOSURE OF LEGAL COUNSEL’S INVOLVEMENT IN ARCHER MERIDIAN SABOTAGE; SEC LAUNCHES INSIDER TRADING INVESTIGATION.
“Marcus Vance was arrested twenty minutes ago,” Richard said, dropping into his leather chair, looking as if he had aged twenty years in a single morning. “He’s talking to the federal prosecutors to save his own neck. He’s telling them that I authorized the short position on Archer Meridian stock!”
“Dad...” Vivienne whimpered, terror finally breaking through her vanity. “What... what’s going to happen to us?”
The heavy double doors of the penthouse suite opened without a knock.
Four agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, led by a stern woman in a dark suit holding a federal warrant, stepped into the office.
“Richard Cross?” the lead agent asked flatly.
Richard slowly stood up, his hands limp at his sides. “Yes.”
“You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit securities fraud, wire fraud, and obstruction of justice,” the agent said, stepping forward with handcuffs.
As the agents slapped the steel cuffs onto her father’s wrists, Vivienne scrambled backward on the sofa, screaming hysterically. “No! You can’t do this! Do you know who I am? I’m Vivienne Cross!”
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The lead agent looked down at Vivienne with a mixture of pity and disgust. “Miss Cross, you are also subpoenaed to appear before the federal grand jury on Monday regarding your role in the physical assault of Claire Bennett and conspiracy to manufacture corporate defamation.”
Vivienne dropped to her knees on the expensive Persian rug, weeping uncontrollably, as her father was led away in chains. She looked at her reflection in the glass coffee table—her ruined makeup, her disheveled dress, her shattered life—and finally understood the terrifying truth: the quiet housekeeper she had kicked had ended her world without ever lifting a single finger in anger.
