Chapter 3 - The Collapse of the Façade
Daniel’s phone began to vibrate violently on the table. Then his chief financial officer's phone rang. Then two of the city councilmen's phones lit up simultaneously.
The news was already breaking in financial channels: Vale & Rowe's municipal backing suspended pending trustee review.
"Nora! Stop this!" Daniel yelled, stepping around the table toward her, his arrogant facade completely shattered into sheer panic. "You're destroying the firm! You're destroying my legacy!"
"Your legacy?" Nora asked, her voice cool and steady. "Daniel, you didn't build Vale & Rowe. My family funded it. My grandfather gave your father his first office. I spent ten years in the background fixing your accounting mistakes, managing your public image, and covering for your incompetence."
"You're just a housewife!" Elise shrieked, her voice losing all its polished charm. "Daniel, call the police! Have her removed!"
"Call them, please," Arthur invited dryly, pulling out his own phone. "I'm sure the Boston Police Department would love to review the security camera footage from the corner of this dining room. The Harrington Club records every inch of these private suites in high-definition video and audio."
Elise went pale. Her head snapped toward the ceiling corner, where a small black dome lens gleamed in the dim chandelier light.
City Councilman Harris stood up from his untouched halibut, pushing his chair back with a heavy groan. "Daniel, if your capital guarantees are frozen, the city council vote tomorrow morning is dead. The mayor will not sign a contract with a firm caught in a felony assault and trust default scandal."
"Councilman, wait!" Daniel begged, reaching for Harris's arm. "We can fix this! It's just a marital dispute!"
"It's not a dispute, Daniel," Councilman Harris said coldly, tossing his linen napkin onto his plate. "It's a liability."
Within two minutes, three-quarters of the room stood up. Donors, municipal partners, and board members quietly slipped out the side doors, eager to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the sinking ship of Vale & Rowe.
Margaret Vale sat frozen in her chair, her face ash-white, her champagne glass trembling so violently in her hand that the liquid spilled onto her pearl necklace.
May you like
"Nora..." Margaret stammered, her voice stripped of all its haughty authority. "Think of the family name..."
"I am thinking of it, Margaret," Nora said, picking up her evening bag. "I'm restoring its dignity by removing your son from it."
