Morning light broke through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the Sterling Enterprises executive penthouse suite on the forty-second floor.
Elena sat behind her father's grand mahogany desk, a warm cup of black coffee resting beside her laptop.
Arthur Vance walked into the office, carrying a leather folder stamped with federal court seals.
Arthur: Good morning, Madame CEO. How does the view look from the forty-second floor today?
Elena: It looks clear, Arthur. What did the federal magistrate rule regarding Clara’s bail?
Arthur: Bail was denied outright. Given the homicide charges and the flight risk posed by her offshore shell corporations, she will remain in federal detention until trial.
Elena: And Marcus?
Arthur: His family attempted to post bail by mortgaging their estate, but the judge placed a preliminary lien on all their property to satisfy civil damages for fraud. He is staying in custody as well.
Elena took a slow sip of her coffee, feeling the warm steam rise against her face.
For the first time in six months, the suffocating weight in her chest was completely gone.
Elena: Did the forensic team recover the forty million dollars from Belize?
Arthur: The international freeze orders cleared early this morning. Every cent is being repatriated back into the Sterling family trust fund by three o'clock.
A soft knock came at the frosted office door, and Sarah, the executive secretary, walked in holding a blinking desk phone receiver.
Sarah: Miss Sterling? The lead director from the Chicago investment syndicate is holding on line one. He is asking if the sale of the commercial shipping hubs is still moving forward.
Elena shared a brief, knowing look with Arthur before reaching for the speakerphone console.
Elena: Put him through, Sarah.
Elena pressed the speaker button, her voice calm, level, and razor sharp.
Elena: Good morning, Mr. Harrison.
Mr. Harrison: Miss Sterling! Good morning. I saw the morning news... an absolute tragedy about your family situation. We are prepared to honor our original two-hundred-million-dollar buyout offer to take those properties off your hands immediately and relieve your stress.
Elena: Let me clarify something for you right away, Mr. Harrison. Those distribution terminals are not for sale.
Mr. Harrison: Miss Sterling, surely you realize the commercial logistics market is volatile—
Elena: In fact, our preliminary audit reveals your firm colluded with Marcus Hayes to undervalue our commercial holdings by forty-five percent.
The line went completely dead on the other end, followed by the nervous clearing of a throat.
Elena: If your company wishes to continue leasing our distribution warehouses, your monthly rates increase by twenty percent starting next quarter. If you decline, my legal team will file an antitrust lawsuit against your firm before the close of business today.
Mr. Harrison: Miss Sterling, that is an extreme measure! We had an understanding with Marcus—
Elena: Marcus is sitting in a federal holding cell, Mr. Harrison. You have until noon to email your signed agreement to Arthur Vance. Have a productive day.
Elena tapped the disconnect button, cutting off the line instantly.
Arthur let out a deep, hearty laugh, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses.
Arthur: Your father would have given you a standing ovation, Elena.
Elena: Dad would have told me twenty percent was too generous.
Arthur: What do you want to do about the country club venue and the wedding banquet that was scheduled for today?
Elena stood up and walked over to the towering glass window, looking out over the sprawling city skyline where her father's name was etched in bronze atop three downtown buildings.
Elena: Donate all four hundred gourmet meals to the downtown women's shelter, Arthur. And take all the white lilies to the children's oncology wing at the municipal hospital.
Arthur: Consider it done, Madame CEO.
Elena: And Arthur? Have building security revoke Clara and Marcus's access badges immediately, and change the locks on the penthouse suite.
Arthur: That was taken care of at dawn.
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