Chapter 3 - The Frozen Gates
Across town, in the penthouse suite of the Grand Horizon Hotel, Caleb Sterling was pouring two glasses of vintage champagne. His knuckles were bruised from when Marcus had pinned him against the cathedral doors, but the manic grin on his face refused to fade.
"It doesn’t matter what Harlan read at the funeral," Caleb sneered, handing a flute to Vanessa, who sat curled on the white leather sofa, applying a fresh coat of scarlet lipstick. "The Vance bylaws require an executive council vote to ratify any testamentary transfer of voting shares. And I control the financial committee."
Vanessa took the glass, her eyes narrowing. "Are you certain, Caleb? That lawyer looked too confident. And Eleanor... she looked at me like I was dirt under her shoe."
"Eleanor is eight months pregnant and terrified of her own shadow," Caleb laughed, taking a long drink. "She’s never spent a single day on the trading floor. She spent her life running art galleries while her father built a conglomerate. She has no stomach for blood."
He set his champagne glass down and opened his ultra-thin laptop. "I’ll wire the eighty million from the secondary reserve account into our Zurich holding tonight. By the time she walks into the boardroom tomorrow, the company won't have enough liquid cash to cover its morning payroll. She'll have to beg me to fix it."
Caleb inserted his executive security token into the port and typed his administrative override code: *STERLING_EXEC_01*.
The screen loaded, spinning a blue circle. Caleb smirked, resting his chin in his hand.
Then, the screen flashed an abrasive, blinding red.
**[ACCESS DENIED: CREDENTIALS REVOKED BY ORDER OF THE TRUSTEE]**
Caleb blinked, shaking his head. "What the hell?" He rapidly typed the passcode again, hammering the keys with increasing force.
**[SECURITY ALERT: ACCOUNT FROZEN. IP ADDRESS LOGGED. PROCEED TO VANCE SECURITY HEADQUARTERS.]**
"What is it?" Vanessa asked, standing up, her silk robe billowing behind her. "Did it go through?"
"The server must be glitching," Caleb muttered, his voice cracking slightly. He grabbed his smartphone and dialed the Chief Financial Officer. The phone rang twice before clicking directly to an automated recording: *The number you have dialed is currently in closed session.*
Panic, cold and sharp, began to creep up Caleb’s spine. He opened his personal banking application on his phone. His balance, which should have shown a personal fortune of seven million dollars earned from his Vance executive salary, displayed a single horrifying figure:
**$0.00**
Beneath the balance, a small notice in gray font read: *Funds frozen pursuant to Court Order #8841-B: Vance Corporate Embezzlement Injunction.*
"Caleb?" Vanessa’s voice rose an octave. "Why is my black card declining on the hotel room service?"
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Caleb dropped his phone onto the plush carpet. The screen shattered, but the glowing notification remained intact. He grabbed his coat, his hands trembling violently.
"Get dressed," Caleb barked, his face white as chalk. "Call the three board members we bought. We have to strike before sunrise, or we’re going to prison."
