Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Gilded Scion
By eight o’clock that morning, the Caruso Design Group headquarters on Madison Avenue was surrounded by a wall of television satellite vans, reporters, and a growing crowd of protestors holding signs bearing still frames of Dominic’s hand striking my face.
Inside the executive boardroom on the fifty-second floor, the scene was far more savage than the street below.
Dominic Caruso sat at the head of the conference table, his eyes bloodshot, his tailored suit rumpled, and a half-empty glass of water shaking between his hands. Across from him sat the eight senior members of the board of directors, men and women who had spent the last decade dining at our home, praising Dominic’s "visionary leadership," and benefiting from the millions his label generated.
Now, their faces were carved from granite.
"The board cannot sustain this level of catastrophic exposure, Dominic," announced Arthur Pendelton, the senior board member and a long-time ally of Dominic’s late father. He threw a stack of printouts onto the polished mahogany table. "Every major retail partner has paused their orders. Saks Fifth Avenue has pulled the winter bridal displays. Bergdorf Goodman issued a statement twenty minutes ago stating they are terminating their distribution agreement effective immediately."
"It’s a temporary PR crisis!" Dominic shouted, slamming his hand down. "Finch is drafting a joint statement. We’ll announce that Nora is suffering from a mental breakdown, that the sketches were shared marital property—"
"Are you completely delusional?" interrupted Evelyn Zhao, the head of the European venture fund that held fifteen percent of CDG’s preferred shares. She turned her laptop toward him. "The European Patent Office has formally frozen our production pipeline. Nora Lin’s original patent for the micro-pleating technique predates your incorporation by eight months. You committed wire fraud when you forged her signature to secure the Moretti debt facility."
Dominic’s face drained of what little color remained. "We can settle with her! Nora is emotional, she’s hurt, but she loves me. She loves this family. I can offer her thirty percent of the equity—"
"She doesn't want your equity, Dominic," Pendelton said with cold finality. "Her attorney, Julian Vance, delivered an ultimatum at seven-thirty this morning. Either the board removes you as Chief Executive Officer with cause, strips you of your voting rights, and freezes your severance packages, or Nora Lin files an immediate federal civil asset forfeiture suit that will drag every director in this room into a criminal conspiracy investigation."
"You can't remove me," Dominic whispered, his voice cracking. "I am this company. My name is on the building!"
"Then we will take the letters down," Pendelton replied, raising his right hand. "All those in favor of the immediate termination of Dominic Caruso as CEO, signify by saying aye."
Every single hand at the table went up.
"The motion carries unanimously," Pendelton said, not even looking at the man he had known since childhood. "Security will escort you to your office to collect your personal effects. You have twenty minutes before your access keycards are deactivated."
Dominic stood up, his chair screeching violently against the floorboards. "You cowards! You wouldn't have this company without me! Vanessa and I built this line!"
At the mention of Vanessa’s name, the double doors of the boardroom swung open.
Vanessa Moretti stood in the doorway, wearing oversized sunglasses and a sharp trench coat, flanked by two private security guards and an attorney who was not Carter Finch.
Dominic’s eyes lit up with desperate relief. "Vanessa! Thank God. Tell them. Tell these bastards that your uncle won't pull the funding. We can move the manufacturing to Milan, bypass the US injunction entirely—"
Vanessa slowly lowered her sunglasses, looking at Dominic not with the adoration and worship she had projected for two years, but with pure, unvarnished disgust.
"Are you out of your mind, Dominic?" she said, her voice sharp and brittle. "My uncle has already rescinded the loan. The Italian authorities are launching a fraud audit into my studio because of your forged patent documents."
Dominic froze. "Vanessa... what are you talking about? We planned this together. You told me Nora would never find out. You said—"
"I said nothing," Vanessa interrupted coldly, stepping aside to let her attorney hand a legal envelope to Arthur Pendelton. "I was an employee of Caruso Design Group. I took direction from the CEO. I had no knowledge that the designs provided to me by Dominic Caruso were stolen from his wife. I have just signed a full cooperation agreement with Nora Lin’s legal counsel."
Dominic stared at her, his mouth hanging open, looking as though he had been struck by lightning. "You... you signed what?"
"I am a victim of your deception, Dominic," Vanessa said, delivering the line with the smooth, rehearsed perfection of an actress playing to the cameras. "You told me the sketches were yours. You told me your wife was an unstable recluse who wanted nothing to do with the industry. I will not let you drag my family’s name into the gutter with you."
She turned on her heel and walked down the corridor, her stilettos clicking sharply on the terrazzo floor, leaving Dominic standing alone in the center of the boardroom as security guards stepped up behind him.
"Mr. Caruso," one of the guards said, resting a hand on his holster. "It’s time to go."
Dominic looked around the room, at the faces of the people who had bowed to him twelve hours earlier. Not one person met his gaze.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text message from Carter Finch:
**Carter [8:22 AM]:** *Dominic, I’m withdrawing as your counsel. The Manhattan DA’s office has just issued a grand jury subpoena for the 2021 corporate restructuring files. Get yourself a criminal defense specialist. Do not contact me again.*
Dominic stumbled backward against the glass wall of the conference room, looking out over the city he thought he conquered.
Below him, the streets were filled with people who knew his shame. Above him, his name was being scrubbed from the digital monitors.
May you like
And somewhere in that city, the quiet woman he had dismissed as a simple mother was holding the matches to the ashes of his life.
***
