Chapter 3: The Boardroom Massacre
The next morning, the financial district of Manhattan was buzzing with a vicious, uncontrollable rumor. The Sterling family was bankrupt. Over-night, their credit lines had been frozen, their assets seized, and their prestigious black cards declined at the local coffee shops.
On the 85th floor of the Rostova Tower, Elena sat at the head of a massive mahogany boardroom table. She was no longer wearing the cheap black uniform. Today, she wore a tailored, blood-red Tom Ford suit, her dark hair pinned back flawlessly. The pink diamond rested heavily on her hand as she tapped a gold pen against a glowing tablet.
The double doors of the boardroom swung open.
Richard Sterling, Cassandra's father, burst into the room. He looked like he had aged twenty years in a single night. His tie was loose, his eyes bloodshot, and he was sweating profusely. Behind him, looking small and terrified in a plain gray hoodie and sunglasses, was Cassandra.
"Ms. Rostova!" Richard gasped, practically throwing himself toward the table. "Please! There has been a massive misunderstanding! My daughter is foolish, she's spoiled, but you can't destroy my company over a spilled drink and a napkin!"
Elena didn’t look up from her tablet. "It wasn't just a napkin, Richard. It was a display of character. Or rather, a lack thereof."
She finally raised her eyes, locking onto Cassandra, who was cowering behind her father. The arrogance from the night before had been completely eradicated, replaced by raw, trembling fear.
"I spent three weeks working undercover in my own hotels and restaurants," Elena said, her voice echoing in the vast room. "I saw how your daughter treated the valet. I saw her spit at a concierge. I saw her mock a cleaner who was working two jobs to feed her kids. You raised a monster, Richard. And in the business world, a man who cannot manage his own household cannot be trusted to manage my money."
"I will disown her!" Richard screamed desperately, throwing his own daughter under the bus without a second thought. "I will cut her off! Just please, reinstate the loan. The banks are foreclosing on our home at noon!"
Cassandra gasped, tears streaming down her face. "Daddy! You can't!"
"Shut up!" Richard roared at her, turning back to Elena with pleading eyes. "Please, Ms. Rostova. I’ll do anything."
Elena leaned back in her leather chair, steepling her fingers. "Anything?"
"Name your price," Richard begged.
Elena slid a thick manila folder across the table. "Sign this. It transfers 100% of Sterling Tech to the Rostova Syndicate for the sum of one dollar. In exchange, I will pay off your debts so you don't go to federal prison for the tax fraud I found hidden in your ledgers."
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Richard stared at the document as if it were a venomous snake. "One dollar? My company is my life's work! It's worth fifty million!"
"It was worth fifty million yesterday," Elena corrected coldly. "Today, it's worth exactly one dollar. Sign it, Richard. Or I call the SEC, and you both spend the next twenty years in a concrete cell."
