Chapter 3 - The Purge of the Whitmore TowerAt 9:00 AM the following morning, the fifty-story glass headquarters of Whitmore Global Real Estate on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan was in a state of total, historic upheaval.
Inside the grand executive penthouse suite, Vanessa Blake stood before two open leather trunks, wearing a mink coat, furiously stuffing gold jewelry, bearer bonds, and designer watches into her luggage.
"TELL THE PRIVATE JET TO START THE ENGINES!" Vanessa shrieked into her cell phone, her manicured fingers shaking violently. "Richard’s bail was denied! The Sterling family is seizing the building!"
BOOM!
The heavy double glass doors of the penthouse suite were thrown open with a violent, hydraulic impact!
Walking down the central marble foyer, flanked by Chief Security Director Marcus Vance and four federal marshals, was me.
I wore an magnificent dark charcoal bespoke suit, my dark hair pulled back into a sleek, regal knot, my hazel eyes radiating an unshakeable, sovereign authority that dropped the room's temperature to zero.
Beside me walked Nathaniel Sterling and Bridget Colton.
Vanessa dropped her phone onto the plush rug. A manipulative, panicked smile instantly appeared on her face as she backed away toward the open safe.
"C-Catherine...!" Vanessa stammered, her voice trembling frantically. "Listen to me! Richard forced me to wear that gown! He was the one who locked you in the cellar! I had nothing to do with it!"
"You had $140 million to do with it, Vanessa," I replied smoothly, every word dropping like a block of frozen lead.
Bridget Colton stepped forward, sliding thick court-stamped legal notices flat into Vanessa’s trembling hands:
IMMEDIATE EVICTION: Absolute revocation of all luxury leases and penthouse titles registered under Vanessa Blake.
CIVIL ASSET FORFEITURE: Repossession of all jewelry collections, luxury vehicles, and bank accounts funded by embezzled Sterling marital capital.
CRIMINAL ARREST WARRANTS: Federal warrants served on Vanessa Blake for Interstate Wire Fraud, Conspiracy to Commit Extortion, and Grand Larceny.
Vanessa thrashed her head around, her face going from arrogant red to an ugly, paper-white mask of terror.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Vanessa screamed, thrashing as two uniformed federal officers stepped forward with heavy steel handcuffs. "RICHARD LOVES ME! HE BUILT THIS FOR ME!"
"He built it on stolen blood, Vanessa," I answered, looking down at her with an absolute, clean, weightless disgust. "And now you can spend the next twenty years reflecting on it in a federal cell."
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Vanessa thrashed and shrieked hysterical, groveling pleas as marshals dragged her out of the Whitmore Tower in total, public disgrace, surrounded by news crews capturing her complete downfall for the afternoon news.
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