Chapter 4 - The Financial Audit
By 8:00 p.m., I was sitting behind the massive mahogany desk in my private penthouse office on the top floor of Obsidian Point. A glass of sparkling water sat beside a stack of legal files. My ruined dress had been discarded in the laundry chute, replaced by a comfortable cashmere lounge sweater and tailored black trousers.
My phone buzzed relentlessly on the desk.
Caleb: Call me right now. Are you insane? Do you know how much public humiliation you just caused us? Caleb: Mom is crying. Bianca is hysterical. Her father is calling his lawyers. Caleb: Elena, pick up the phone! You can't just cut off my living allowance! We have a contract for the wedding deposit!
I ignored every text, watching the notifications pile up like falling leaves.
A sharp knock sounded on my office door. Marcus stepped inside, holding a thick leather-bound folder.
"The venue has been fully cleared, Ms. Sterling," Marcus reported, his expression professional and composed. "The catering staff has packed up the remaining perishable goods, and our corporate legal team has already reviewed the event contract."
"And the deposit?" I asked, looking up from my screen.
"Refunded in full to the credit card on file—which, as it turns out, was billed to the corporate account you established for Caleb's last venture, not his personal funds," Marcus said with a dry, knowing smirk. "In effect, he was paying for his own party using your corporate subsidiary's discretionary fund."
I let out a cold chuckle. "Figures. He never could manage a budget without dipping into my reserves. Did he try to argue with security on his way out?"
"Oh, absolutely," Marcus replied, leaning against the edge of a side table. "Mr. Nelson threatened to sue for breach of contract, defamation, and emotional distress. Until I handed him a copy of the venue's master deed showing your name as sole beneficiary and majority shareholder. He turned white as a sheet and hasn't spoken a word since."
"Good." I opened a new spreadsheet on my dual monitors. "Let's pull every financial record associated with Caleb’s living expenses, apartment lease, and business grants over the past three years. I want an itemized list on my desk by tomorrow morning at nine."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You're pulling all of it?"
"Every single cent," I said, my voice hard as iron. "For years, I let my parents guilt me into treating him like a fragile investment project because he was the 'genius' of the family. He took my support, let his fiancée humiliate me, and watched his future mother-in-law treat me like trash in a building I built from the ground up. The gravy train is officially out of track."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Consider it done, Ms. Sterling. I'll have accounting lock down all subsidiary accounts connected to his name by midnight."
As Marcus stepped out, closing the door softly behind him, my phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't Caleb. It was an incoming call from our mother.
May you like
I stared at the glowing screen, watching her name flash against the dark glass. For thirty years, I had jumped when she called, bending over backward to keep the peace, smoothing over Caleb’s failures, and absorbing the casual, stinging reminders that no matter how successful I became, my brother was always the sun and I was just the orbit.
I pressed the red decline button, silenced the ringer, and turned the phone face down.
