Chapter 23 - The Cold War on Michigan Avenue
By nine o'clock the following morning, the financial district of Chicago had turned into a gladiatorial arena. The *Wall Street Journal* ran an emergency banner headline: *“European Syndicate Claims Majority Stake in Sterling-Vance Conglomerate; Hostile Takeover Imminent.”*
The stock plummeted eight percent in pre-market trading before trading was halted by the exchange. Outside the Vance Tower on Michigan Avenue, satellite trucks lined the curb, their antennae pointed toward the sky like medieval pikes.
I stepped out of our private town car, flanked by two bodyguards David had hired from an elite executive security firm. I wore an emerald sheath dress and sharp, tailored blazer—armor for the modern war. David walked beside me, towering, composed, his bandaged hand tucked smoothly into his pocket. We walked through the flash of cameras and shouting reporters with our heads held high, projecting an impenetrable wall of unity.
As the revolving glass doors spun, we found Victoria Ross waiting in the lobby.
She was draped in a camel-hair cashmere coat, sipping an espresso from the tower’s café as if she owned the foundation stones beneath our feet. Beside her stood Julian, immaculate in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, a gold watch chain glinting at his waistcoat.
“Good morning, partners,” Victoria purred, stepping forward to block our path to the executive elevators. Her eyes danced with malice. “I see the board called an emergency session for ten o’clock. Julian and I have already taken the liberty of reserving the head of the table.”
“You’re trespassing on private corporate property, Victoria,” I said, not slowing my stride until I was inches from her face. “Your diplomatic visa grants you permission to avoid extradition, not the right to occupy commercial premises without a registered court order.”
Julian smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. “The court order was signed thirty minutes ago by Judge Holbrook, Claire. Until the legitimacy of our 2012 lien is adjudicated, my sister and I hold provisional observer status with voting veto power over all corporate disbursements exceeding five hundred thousand dollars.”
David stepped between me and Julian, his physical presence casting an intimidating shadow over the Austrian heir. “You have sixty minutes of observer status, Julian. Enjoy them. Because when that board meets, you’ll discover that Chicago isn't Vienna, and my father wasn't as careless as you hoped.”
“He was careless enough to leave his family exposed to total ruin,” Julian replied coldly, leaning in until his breath grazed David’s ear. “And once we strip Sterling-Vance of its maritime logistics assets, I’ll take this building, your home on the river, and whatever pride you have left. Victoria will see to it personally.”
Victoria smiled at David—a slow, predatory grin that brought back the repulsive memory of that birthday dinner where she had draped her arms around his neck while my back was turned. “I always get what I want, David. You should have taken the deal when it was just me in your bed. Now you lose everything.”
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David didn't flinch. He didn't raise his voice. He merely looked down at her with unadulterated contempt. “You’re nothing more than an expensive errand girl, Victoria. And when your brother discards you after this fails, don't come knocking on my door. Because there won't be an interrogation room comfortable enough to save you.”
***
