Chapter 8 - The Fall of Vance Holdings
The fallout from Saturday night was swift, brutal, and comprehensive.
By Monday morning, news of the scandal at the Drake Hotel had leaked to the Chicago Tribune and real estate trade journals. Harrison Sterling’s legal team issued a public statement severing all business ties with Vance Holdings LLC and announcing a private investigation into Richard Vance's business dealings.
At 9:00 a.m., federal marshals and forensic accountants from the IRS arrived at the corporate offices of Vance Holdings, executing a search warrant for all financial ledgers, hard drives, and banking records.
I watched the news coverage from my desk at Pendelton & Croft, wearing a sharp grey pantsuit that effectively hid my back brace.
Arthur Pendelton walked into my office, carrying a fresh mug of coffee, which he placed on my desk.
"The bank has formally initiated foreclosure proceedings against your parents' primary residence in Wilmette," Arthur reported, taking a seat across from me. "And the state attorney's office has opened a formal inquiry into your father for grand larceny and check fraud."
"What about the brownstone?" I asked.
"Completely clear," Arthur smiled faintly. "The court ruled this morning that the Vance Heritage Trust remains entirely unencumbered. The title is 100% yours, Nora."
A soft sigh of relief escaped my lips. My grandmother's memory had been protected. The legacy she worked her entire life to build was safe from my father's destructive greed.
My phone on the desk chimed. It was an unknown number.
I hesitated for a moment, then clicked the speakerphone button. "Nora Vance."
"Nora... please don't hang up," a small, broken voice pleaded through the speaker.
It was Elise.
She wasn't speaking with her usual arrogant charm or theatrical anger. She sounded defeated, exhausted, and utterly terrified.
"What do you want, Elise?" I asked calmly.
"The... the moving trucks are at the house," Elise sobbed into the phone. "They’re seizing Dad’s cars. Mom is having a panic attack in the kitchen, and Dad is sitting in his study refusing to talk to anyone. The bank froze my personal checking account too because Dad put my name as a co-signer on one of his corporate loans."
I sat back in my leather chair, looking out at the city. "You were twenty-four years old when you signed those documents, Elise. I warned you three years ago never to sign anything Father put in front of you without having a lawyer read it first."
"I didn't know!" she cried. "I trusted him! Nora... I don't have any money left! I can't pay my apartment rent next month! Julian won't answer my calls! His father blocked my number!"
"Actions have consequences, Elise," I said softly.
"Please, Nora!" she begged, weeping openly. "You're my big sister! You've always fixed things! Can't you just loan me enough money for a deposit on a studio apartment? Just until I find a job?"
I looked at a framed photo on my desk—a photo taken five years ago at my law firm partnership ceremony. My parents and Elise hadn't attended that dinner either; they had gone to a horse race in Kentucky instead. I had stood alone in that photo with Arthur Pendelton.
"I am no longer your safety net, Elise," I said, my voice steady and unwavering. "For twelve years, I was the daughter who fixed your mistakes while you mocked my hard work. You wanted the life of a spoiled heiress without paying the price. Now the bill has arrived."
"Nora, please—"
May you like
"If you want financial advice, hire an attorney," I said. "If you need emotional support, call your mother. But do not call this number again."
I pressed the end call button, locking the screen.
