Chapter 6 - Vanessa's True Colors
The condominium building on Superior Street was a sleek, glass-fronted mid-rise with a doorman in a gold-braided uniform. Daniel had paid for the lease on Vanessa’s top-floor loft using an auxiliary Sullivan Logistics account marked ‘regional executive temporary housing.’
When Daniel marched through the glass doors, the doorman, a young man named Carlos whom Daniel had tipped five hundred dollars at Christmas, stepped out from behind the desk with an awkward expression.
“Mr. Sullivan,” Carlos said, blocking his path toward the elevators. “Good morning, sir.”
“Carlos, let me up,” Daniel said, brushing past him.
“I can’t do that, Mr. Sullivan,” Carlos said, stepping sideways to intercept him again. “Miss Reed left strict instructions this morning. She stated that you were no longer a permitted visitor on her residential profile.”
Daniel stopped, staring at the doorman in sheer disbelief. “What are you talking about? I pay for this damn building! My name is on the commercial lease agreement!”
“Actually, sir,” Carlos said, pulling a clipboard from behind the marble counter, “we received a formal legal notice from Vance, Sterling & Caldwell at seven-thirty. The lease has been terminated under the corporate leasehold cancellation clause, effective thirty days from today. And Miss Reed specifically requested building management bar your entry to prevent any ‘disturbances.’”
Daniel’s vision swam with red. He shoved Carlos aside with his shoulder and stepped into the elevator, hammering the button for the twelfth floor before the doorman could hit the emergency override.
The elevator climbed silently. Daniel’s heart was hammering against his ribs like a sledgehammer.
*She’s just scared,* he told himself frantically. *She doesn't understand corporate law. She thinks she’s in trouble. Once I explain that we can fight this, she’ll calm down. She loves me. She told me last week that she’d stand by me through anything.*
He reached the twelfth floor, charged down the carpeted hallway, and pounded on the heavy oak door of Unit 12B.
“Vanessa! Open the door! It’s Daniel!”
A long silence followed. Then, the sound of deadbolts sliding open.
The door swung back three inches, held by an interior security chain.
Vanessa Reed stood behind the door. She wasn't wearing her tailored designer suits. She was wearing leggings and an oversized cashmere sweater, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. Behind her in the entryway, two large Louis Vuitton suitcases were already packed and standing beside the console table.
“Daniel,” she said, her voice completely devoid of warmth. “What are you doing here? I told the desk not to let you up.”
“Vanessa, what is going on?” Daniel demanded, trying to push the door open against the chain. “They’ve frozen my accounts! Laura filed for divorce! She went to the board with the wire transfers!”
“I know,” Vanessa said flatly. “Marcus Vance’s associates served me with a subpoena at six-thirty this morning.”
“A subpoena?” Daniel scoffed. “So what? We fight it! We claim the payments were for legitimate consulting services! You have the preliminary deck we worked on!”
Vanessa looked at him with an expression of cold, incredulous pity that cut Daniel deeper than any insult Laura had ever delivered.
“Daniel, are you completely detached from reality?” she said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “The ‘deck’ we worked on was eight slides of stock photography and bullet points copied from a marketing textbook. Marcus Vance has every email, every hotel receipt, every text message we’ve exchanged for the last eight months. He has the flight logs from the corporate jet to Miami.”
“We can weather this!” Daniel insisted, his voice rising in desperation. “I still have my stock! Even without the trust proxy, my personal shares are worth eight million dollars! Once the divorce settles, I’ll have capital! But right now, I need you to transfer the funds from the Reed Media account so I can hire a litigator!”
Vanessa let out a short, cruel laugh.
“The Reed Media account is gone, Daniel.”
Daniel stopped. “What do you mean, gone?”
“The bank froze that account at seven-fifteen under an emergency court order,” Vanessa said, crossing her arms. “And even if it wasn't frozen... do you really think I’m going to spend my own freedom protecting you? The SEC can get involved in this. That’s federal, Daniel. Wire fraud. Commingling of corporate funds.”
“We did this together!” Daniel shouted, rattling the door against the chain. “You asked for those retainers! You told me you needed capital to build the brand!”
“You’re the CEO, Daniel. You signed the authorizations. You told me you owned that company. You told me your wife was an irrelevant ghost who would take whatever settlement you threw at her.”
She reached for the handle to close the door.
“I’m meeting with Marcus Vance’s litigation team at eleven,” Vanessa added calmly. “I’m signing a full cooperation agreement and turning over every document and device they asked for in exchange for corporate indemnity.”
Daniel felt the world drop out from beneath him. “You’re turning state’s evidence against me?”
“I’m saving myself,” Vanessa said simply. “I suggest you go find an attorney who accepts pro bono work, Daniel. Because from what Marcus Vance told my lawyer this morning... you’re not leaving that boardroom today with a single thing.”
She slammed the door shut.
The deadbolts clicked into place.
May you like
Daniel Sullivan stood alone in the quiet corridor, staring at the painted wood, listening to the muffled sound of the woman he had risked his entire life for rolling her suitcases toward the balcony.
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