Chapter 3 - The 9:00 AM ExecutionThe sun rose over Manhattan on Tuesday morning, bathing the skyscrapers in a brilliant, unforgiving golden light.
Inside a private cabana at the exclusive Vista Azul Resort in Cabo San Lucas, the ocean breeze ruffled the sheer white curtains. Derek Cross lay sprawled across a plush lounge chair, wearing polarized sunglasses and sipping a chilled mimosa, while Clara lounged nearby in a designer white bikini, her skin gleaming with coconut oil.
“I still can’t believe how smoothly that went,” Clara laughed, taking a sip of her champagne. “If Emily had shown up at the terminal or figured out the flight details, it would have been an absolute circus.”
“Emily doesn't suspect a thing,” Derek scoffed, adjusting his sunglasses with absolute arrogance. “She’s too predictable, too trusting. She probably spent all night making welcome banners for her precious brother. Honestly, Clara, breaking it off with her after the wedding would have been messy anyway. Doing it this way? Clean, efficient, and entirely painless.”
“For us, maybe,” Clara smirked.
At that exact second, Derek’s phone buzzed aggressively on the glass table.
He picked it up lazily, expecting a text from a colleague or a reminder about a dinner reservation. Instead, his screen flashed with an incoming call from his father, Arthur Cross—senior managing partner of Sterling & Vance.
Derek swiped to answer, a slight smirk on his face. “Hey, Dad. Enjoying the morning back in the city?”
“Derek! Where the hell are you?!” Arthur’s voice roared through the speaker, so loud and frantic that Clara instinctively sat up, her smile vanishing.
“Dad? What are you talking about? I told you, I’m at that corporate seminar in Seattle—”
“Don’t lie to me, you arrogant little fool!” Arthur screamed, coughing violently with rage. “Our primary creditor just issued an immediate acceleration notice on our entire revolving credit line! Eighty-four percent of our subordinated debt was bought out by an offshore syndicate operating under Vesta Holdings! They want thirty million dollars wired to their escrow account by 5:00 PM today, or they are foreclosing on every single asset the firm owns!”
Derek’s mimosa glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the stone patio, sending shards of glass and yellow liquid flying across his bare feet.
“W-What?!” Derek stammered, his face instantly draining of all color. “That’s impossible! Who—who owns Vesta Holdings? Which firm is behind this?!”
“I don’t know!” Arthur yelled back, his voice cracking with panic. “The legal representative wouldn't take our calls! They said the only person authorized to negotiate the debt restructuring is a primary stakeholder named Nolan Vance!”
Derek froze. The name hit him like a physical blow.
Nolan Vance. Emily’s brother.
“Nolan...” Derek whispered, his breath catching in his throat as the horrifying puzzle pieces slammed together in his mind. “No... no, that can’t be...”
“Get back here on the next flight, Derek!” Arthur bellowed before slamming the phone down with a deafening click.
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Derek sat paralyzed in the Mexican sunshine, the ocean breeze suddenly feeling like a freezing gale. He looked over at Clara, whose face was completely pale, her phone buzzing incessantly in her hand with an email notification from her agency’s HR director notifying her of an immediate disciplinary hearing and termination for gross corporate misconduct.
The vacation was over before it had even begun.
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