Chapter 7 - The Stripping of the Emperor
The crowd parted before me like the Red Sea.
Nobody spoke. Nobody laughed. The executives who had chuckled at Adrian’s jokes thirty minutes ago now lowered their heads as I passed, terrified that I might remember their faces.
I stopped beside Daniel Vance.
Adrian looked at me, his eyes bloodshot, sweat beading across his forehead, ruining the five-hundred-dollar haircut he had gotten that morning.
“Eleanor…” he breathed, his voice cracking. “What did you do? What did you do to us?”
“There is no ‘us,’ Adrian,” I said, my voice carrying that quiet, lethal dignity that my father had perfected over fifty years in boardrooms. “There hasn't been an ‘us’ since you decided that loyalty was an option and theft was a strategy.”
Celeste scrambled to her feet, stumbling over her floor-length hemline. She grabbed my arm, her manicured nails digging into the silk of my gown.
“Eleanor! You wicked, jealous girl!” Celeste screamed, tears of rage smearing her mascara. “You’re doing this because he fell in love with someone younger! You’re destroying his life over a woman! Stop this madness! We are your family!”
I looked down at her hand on my arm.
One of the Vance security guards stepped forward, his hand resting firmly on the grip of his taser. Celeste flinched and pulled her hand back as if she had touched a hot stove.
“Family, Celeste?” I asked softly. “Was it family when you told your bridge club last Tuesday that I was an anchor around Adrian’s neck? Was it family when you billed seventy thousand dollars in personal cosmetic surgery to my family’s healthcare trust last month?”
Celeste gasped, her face flushing crimson.
“And speaking of jewelry,” I said, glancing at the glittering diamond collar around her neck. “Daniel, do we have the inventory list?”
Daniel stepped forward, holding out a signed repossession order.
“The seven-carat cushion-cut diamond necklace and matching earrings currently worn by Mrs. Celeste Vale are listed under the Ashcroft Heritage Vault inventory, catalog number 884-B,” Daniel said. “They were checked out under a temporary loan agreement signed by Adrian Vale three years ago for the Met Gala. The loan term expired fourteen months ago.”
Two female security officers stepped beside Celeste.
“Ma’am,” one of them said firmly. “Please remove the jewelry now, or we will be forced to detain you for possession of stolen property.”
“No!” Celeste shrieked, clutching her neck. “These are gifts! Adrian gave them to me! Adrian, tell them!”
Adrian didn't move. He couldn't move. His entire world was disintegrating around him, atom by atom.
Celeste, sobbing hysterically under the merciless glare of eighty phone cameras, reached behind her neck with trembling fingers. She unclasped the diamond necklace and dropped it onto the silver tray held by the security guard. Then she ripped off her earrings, her tears splashing onto the black silk tablecloth.
Marcus was backing away toward the kitchen doors, his eyes darting frantically.
“Mr. Marcus Vale,” Daniel called out, without even turning his head.
Marcus froze mid-step.
“The Patek Philippe Grandmaster Chime on your left wrist,” Daniel said calmly. “Purchased with funds drawn from Vale Meridian Procurement Account 109. That account was frozen forty minutes ago due to fraudulent invoice generation. Hand it over, or the officers outside will arrest you on the sidewalk.”
Marcus looked at Adrian. Adrian didn't even look back.
With shaking hands, Marcus unbuckled the half-million-dollar watch, dropped it onto the nearest table like it was a live grenade, and sprinted through the service doors into the kitchen, disappearing from sight.
Vanessa was hyperventilating against the stage.
“I didn't know!” she cried out to the room, her voice high and desperate. “I didn't know anything about the offshore accounts! Adrian told me it was his money! He told me he owned everything! I was just his consultant!”
I turned my gaze toward her. Vanessa shrank back, pressing herself flat against the black velvet curtain of the stage.
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“You knew exactly what you were doing, Vanessa,” I said softly. “You wanted the crown. You just didn't realize that the king was an actor, and you were auditioning on an empty stage.”
***
