Chapter 9 - The Collapse of Savannah’s Dream
The double doors of the boardroom swung open loudly, interrupting Grant’s incoherent stammering.
Savannah stood in the doorway, dressed in an expensive white bridal suit, holding a bouquet of rare orchids. She had come to whisk Grant away to their luxury celebration at the St. Regis, expecting to find him in the glow of his corporate triumph.
“Grant?” she asked, looking around the room in confusion. “What’s going on? Why aren't you answering your phone? The limousines are downstairs.”
Grant turned toward her, his face twisted into an expression of raw, unadulterated hatred. “Get out, Savannah.”
She recoiled, blinking in shock. “What did you say to me?”
“I said get out!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “You stupid, arrogant fool! Your damn wedding date! Your obsession with announcing it! You ruined everything!”
“Excuse me?” Savannah gasped, her eyes widening. “You promised me! You said today we would be worth fifty million dollars!”
“There are no fifty million dollars,” Evelyn said, stepping forward with an icy, professional tone. “Mr. Sterling’s assets have been frozen by court order. The Tribeca penthouse in your name was purchased using stolen corporate funds; an asset forfeiture notice was posted on its front door twenty minutes ago. Furthermore, the engagement ring you are wearing was bought on corporate margin. If it is not returned within forty-eight hours, you will be named as an accessory to grand larceny.”
Savannah clutched her pregnant belly, stumbling backward as if struck. She looked at Grant—no longer seeing an untouchable titan of industry, but a trembling, ruined man whose hands shook uncontrollably as the two police officers stepped toward him.
“You lied to me,” she whispered in horror. “You have nothing.”
“Savannah, please—” Grant pleaded, reaching for her.
May you like
She slapped his hand away with absolute disgust, turned, and fled down the hallway, her designer heels echoing against the marble floor.
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