Chapter 2 - The First Domino
Two days later. The most exclusive sanctuary in Connecticut, the ultra-private Serenity Wellness Club.
The club operated on a draconian membership system. The initiation fee alone was $300,000, requiring extensive background checks and liquid asset verification.
Chloe, dressed head-to-toe in loud, seasonal Chanel, wearing oversized sunglasses and towering stilettos, strutted haughtily into the marble lobby. Flanked by two sycophantic assistant consultants, she was preparing for the billionaire gala at the Grand Aster. Naturally, she required the full suite of luxury spa treatments.
“Open the Grand VIP suite for me,” Chloe commanded, slipping off her sunglasses to glare at the concierge. “Use the imported Moroccan oils. Thorne is paying.”
The floor manager, a man accustomed to catering to the whims of the ultra-rich, rushed forward with a practiced, fawning smile. But as Chloe pivoted toward the private elevators, she caught sight of a figure in the secluded lounge area.
Sitting with my back to her, I wore a simple white button-down shirt and zero makeup. I was quietly sipping black tea while flipping through a copy of Vogue Business.
Chloe stopped dead. She squinted, and upon recognizing my silhouette, her lips twisted into a malicious, triumphant sneer.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she crowed, swaying her hips as she approached. “Kate? Did the sun rise in the west today? Do they let broke losers like you into Serenity now, or did you come here to apply for a janitor position?”
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t stop turning the glossy pages of my magazine.
Chloe exploded at being ignored. “Manager!” she shrieked, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “How are you running this place? This is a top-tier club! Why are you letting mutts in here? If she gets her cheap dirt on the Persian rug, can you afford it? Throw her out immediately!”
The manager glanced at the back of my head, and a sheen of cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead.
Two days prior, the true, hidden ultimate owner of the club—a subsidiary of Sterling Holdings—had issued the strictest directive in the establishment’s history. An incredibly high-ranking guest will visit. Even if she only asks for a glass of tap water, she is to be served like a reigning monarch.
The manager completely ignored Chloe’s screeching. He took three massive, hurried strides toward my couch and bowed deeply, showing profound respect and palpable, vibrating fear.
“Miss Sterling,” he stammered slightly. “Is the AC bothering you? Is the tea not to your liking? Shall I have the executive chef prepare some fresh hors d’oeuvres?”
Chloe was dumbfounded. Her jaw went slack. “Manager, are you blind? Her name is Kate! She’s a broke, dumped housewife that David just threw out onto the street! And you’re sucking up to her? I’m calling David right now. He’s going to cancel his membership and pull his investments from this dump!”
I finally closed the magazine, the heavy paper making a soft thud. I slowly turned around. There wasn’t a trace of emotion in my eyes. I just calmly watched this plastic woman jumping around like a frantic clown.
“David’s investments?” I murmured, picking up my porcelain teacup. I took a small sip, discussing millions as casually as one discusses the weather. “Are you quite sure his card can even be charged a single red cent right now?”
Chloe’s heart visibly skipped a beat. A dark premonition flickered in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a cold, abrasive laugh. “Stop pretending to be something you’re not! David is about to secure a billion-dollar investment tonight! Our Thorne Group is about to enter New York’s absolute elite. And you, a beggar who can’t even afford bread, dare to curse us?”
I was too bored to even look at her anymore. I quietly set the teacup down on the glass saucer.
Clink.
The soft sound was like a starting pistol to the manager. He understood instantly. He stood up straight, the reverence on his face evaporating into glacial hostility as he turned to face Chloe.
“Ma’am, since you are screaming and seriously disturbing the peace of our most VIP guest, I am officially notifying you: your membership is permanently revoked.”
“What did you say?” Chloe’s eyes bulged against her heavy eyelash extensions. “How dare you! I have the Black VIP card! David deposited three hundred thousand dollars onto it just yesterday!”
“I am very sorry,” the manager stated, his face carved from stone. “But exactly three minutes ago, all of Mr. Thorne’s credit cards and corporate accounts were completely frozen by the SEC and the Federal Reserve.”
Chloe staggered back a step.
“The three hundred thousand he paid has been flagged as illegally embezzled corporate assets,” the manager continued ruthlessly. “Our legal department has already received a federal injunction to return the funds. So, you do not have a single dollar of credit here.” He paused, raising a hand. “Security. Throw this woman out onto the street.”
Three heavily built, emotionless security guards in tailored black suits materialized from the corridors. They grabbed Chloe by both arms in an unbreakable vice grip.
“What are you doing?! Don’t touch me! Let me go!” Chloe shrieked hysterically, writhing desperately. Her stilettos scraped wildly against the polished marble floor, leaving black scuff marks.
“Toss her,” the manager ordered without blinking.
No matter how Chloe kicked and cursed, the trained guards remained unyielding. They dragged her toward the exit like a rabid animal. Her brand new Chanel jacket stretched and lost its shape. Her flawless salon blowout turned into a chaotic bird’s nest. Finally, with a heavy, humiliating thud, she was ruthlessly hurled out the glass doors, landing hard on the rough, wet asphalt of the driveway.
Chloe scrambled to her feet. The skin on her palms was scraped raw and bleeding. Trembling with uncontrollable rage and sudden terror, she pulled out her phone with its newly cracked screen and dialed David.
Meanwhile, in the CEO’s office of the Thorne Group, a far more terrifying, apocalyptic panic was unfolding.
The CFO literally crawled into David’s office on his hands and knees, his face as pale as a bedsheet. Red-stamped folders and legal documents spilled across the carpet.
“Mr. Thorne! Disaster!” the CFO gasped, clutching his chest. “In the last ten minutes, all our corporate accounts, your personal bank accounts, your offshore trusts, the credit cards, the real estate deeds… everything has been frozen!”
David leaped up, snatching the faxed papers from the man’s trembling hands. The bold, terrifying letters burned his retinas: ASSET FREEZE. SEC INJUNCTION. FEDERAL RESERVE MANDATE.
“This is impossible!” David roared, throwing the papers in the air. “On what grounds? We had over thirty million in liquid capital!”
“Mr. Thorne,” the CFO swallowed hard, his eyes filled with despair. “That thirty million… that’s the money you illegally transferred from the restricted escrow fund yesterday to pay for Miss Chloe’s country club and spa memberships. The bank received an anonymous tip from the absolute highest authority regarding suspected embezzlement and wire fraud. The US Attorney’s Office is involved. The thirty million has been forcibly recalled.”
An explosion went off in David’s head. Severing cash flow at such a critical moment meant a total halt to all ongoing construction projects. It meant aggressive creditors would be breaking down the company’s glass doors by tomorrow morning.
“This is Catherine’s doing!” David slammed his fist onto his mahogany desk so hard his coffee cup shattered.
The CFO looked at his boss as if he were a certified idiot. “Mr. Thorne, Catherine is a housewife. This is a top-tier federal asset seizure warrant. To get this executed in ten minutes, you need the signature of a federal judge or the direct influence of the head of the Fed! Where would a woman who begged you for grocery money get those kinds of connections?”
David clenched his jaw, his chest heaving as he tried to force oxygen into his lungs. Yes. The CFO was right. That pathetic loser didn’t have that kind of power. If she did, she wouldn’t have been his unpaid maid for six years.
A twisted logic bloomed in David’s panicked mind. Could it be that the powerful, shadow family backing Chloe had decided to teach him a lesson for being sloppy with the escrow funds? Yes. That had to be it. It was a test from the higher-ups before the billionaire gala.
He snatched his ringing phone. Chloe’s hysterical sobbing blasted through the speaker.
“David! They threw me out on the street! Right onto the pavement!” she wailed. “They said your cards are blocked and you’re bankrupt! I was so humiliated! And guess who I saw there? Catherine! That bitch was sitting there drinking tea and laughing at me!”
Catherine is there, too?
Bad blood rushed straight to David’s head. That bad luck curse of a woman. She must have stalked Chloe, insulted her, and somehow angered Chloe’s mysterious benefactors. That was why his accounts were frozen. It all made twisted sense to him now.
“Chloe, baby, don’t cry,” David soothed, grinding his teeth. “Listen to me. This is all that trash’s fault. I promise you, you are going to that gala tonight. I’ll send my private car for you. Furthermore, I will force Catherine to drag herself there and get on her knees to apologize to you in front of New York’s entire elite.”
Hanging up, David immediately dialed the number he had arrogantly blocked just two days ago.
I sat in the back of a chauffeured Maybach, watching the New York skyline roll by. My phone buzzed. I let it ring for a long, agonizing minute before I finally connected the call. I said nothing.
“Catherine,” David’s voice dripped with venom and misplaced authority. “I don’t care what dirty, stalker tricks you used to follow Chloe today, but you will take your little brat and drag yourself to the entrance of the Grand Aster Hotel tonight.”
“Why?” My voice was as calm and flat as the surface of a frozen lake.
“To get on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness!” David roared, the veins likely popping on his thick neck. “Because of your poverty-stricken, loser aura, you ruined my financial karma today! Tonight’s reception determines the life and death of our family. If you don’t want your daughter blacklisted from every decent school in the state, be at the hotel entrance at exactly eight p.m.”
He let out a cruel, desperate sneer. “You will kneel in front of all the reporters, slap yourself in the face ten times, and declare that you’re a shameless lunatic. Otherwise, I swear to God, you won’t even be hired to scrub toilets in this city.”
A long silence followed. Just as David likely thought I had been struck dumb with absolute terror, a light, cold chuckle escaped my lips.
“Fine. Eight p.m. The Grand Aster Hotel. Lily and I will be there exactly on time.”
May you like
I disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the leather seat.
If only he knew that he wasn’t inviting a lamb to the slaughter. He was rolling out the red carpet for the executioner.
