Chapter 7 - The Audit & The Inner Circle
While Garrett and Delilah were being humiliated in front of the world, I was sitting in the executive boardroom on the 50th floor of the Apex Logistics Headquarters in downtown Manhattan.
The floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a breathtaking view of the New York skyline. Surrounding the long mahogany conference table were my top executives: my Chief Financial Officer, my Chief Technology Officer, and my Head of Global Security, Malcolm.
On the large wall-mounted monitor, live footage of Garrett’s disastrous social media stream was playing.
"Turn it off, Malcolm," I said, waving my hand gently.
The screen went black.
"Ms. Sterling," my CFO, Eleanor, said, sliding a thick leather-bound audit report across the table to me. "The forensic accounting team finished reviewing the secondary corporate accounts this morning. The depth of Mr. Vance’s financial deceit is staggering."
I opened the file.
For four years, while Garrett played the role of a high-flying tech entrepreneur, his business was nothing more than an empty shell. He had been using a series of shell companies registered in Delaware to funnel money directly out of Apex Logistics’ regional marketing budget.
"How much did he take?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
"Direct embezzlement stands at $1,420,000," Eleanor reported. "In addition, he signed unauthorized personal guarantees using your forged signature to secure a three-million-dollar private loan from an offshore investment group known as Vanguard Capital."
I raised an eyebrow. "Vanguard Capital? That's the high-yield loan shark outfit run by Julian Vance—Garrett’s estranged uncle."
"Precisely," Eleanor confirmed. "The loan is due in forty-eight hours. Since Garrett has no assets and his bank accounts are frozen, Vanguard Capital will attempt to attach the debt to your personal holdings or Apex Logistics."
I leaned back in my executive leather chair, steepling my fingers. A cold, calculating smile touched my lips.
Garrett thought he was playing a game of personal spite. He thought locking a refrigerator and demanding money for his wine cellar was a display of dominant masculine power. He didn't realize he had stepped onto a grand chessboard where I had been controlling every single piece for years.
"Malcolm," I said, turning to my security chief. "Have our enforcement team secure the Greenwich estate completely. Change the gate codes, deploy twenty-four-hour perimeter guards, and ensure that not a single item leaves that property."
"Understood, Boss," Malcolm replied. "What about the chained refrigerator?"
"Leave it right where it is," I instructed. "It’s a corporate asset now. Let the food inside rot until the court hearing."
"And what about Mr. Vance and his mother?" Eleanor asked. "They are currently staying at a cheap motel near the interstate, using the last of Delilah’s cash."
"Let them stay there," I said calmly. "Garrett’s pride won't allow him to hide forever. He will reach out to his uncle Julian to try and enforce that fraudulent three-million-dollar loan against me. And when he does, we will crush both of them in one single stroke."
Just then, my personal phone buzzed on the table.
It was a text message from an unknown number. I picked it up and tapped the screen:
Unknown: Victoria, you think you've won? You destroyed my life, my reputation, and my family over a stupid fridge! I have documents signed by YOU that make you responsible for my $3 million debt. Pay Vanguard Capital by tomorrow night, or I will leak your corporate secrets to the press and destroy Apex Logistics from the inside out!
I looked at the message, feeling zero fear. Only pure, icy resolve.
I typed a single response:
May you like
Victoria: I'll see you in court, Garrett. Bring your uncle. Bring your mother. Bring everyone you have left.
I put the phone down and turned back to my executive board. "Gentlemen, ladies... let's prepare for the final phase."
