Chapter 7: The Corporate Severance
New York City was a blur of bright lights and aggressive journalists.
The network had flown Sophie and me first class, putting us up in a secure suite at the Plaza under an alias. They had arranged for a private pediatric neurologist to examine Sophie in the room, confirming she was recovering perfectly but advising her to rest.
While Sophie slept peacefully in the king-sized bed, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals sent by the network executives, I sat in the living room area of the suite.
My phone rang. The Caller ID displayed a Chicago area code, but no name.
"Hello?" I answered cautiously.
"Evelyn Hayes. This is Marcus Sterling."
I froze. Marcus Sterling was the CEO of Vanguard Financial, the billion-dollar wealth management firm where Preston had worked for the last six years. He was a titan of industry, a man who intimidated even my father.
"Mr. Sterling," I kept my tone perfectly neutral. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I'll get straight to the point, Evelyn. Vanguard is suffering a PR nightmare because of your brother. Our stock dipped three percent this morning. Clients are threatening to pull their portfolios because they don't want their money managed by a firm that employs a child abuser."
"I saw the news," I replied. "You fired him."
"We did," Sterling confirmed. "But the internet is demanding more. They are digging into Vanguard's past dealings with your father's real estate firm. I want to make a substantial donation to a charity of your choice, or directly to a trust fund for your daughter. Seven figures. In exchange, when you go on Good Morning America tomorrow, I want you to publicly praise Vanguard for our swift action. I want you to state that Vanguard has no ties to your father's corruption."
He was offering me a million dollars to clean his hands.
My brother had worked his whole life to impress men like Marcus Sterling. He had belittled me, crushed me, and assaulted my daughter just to maintain the illusion of his perfect, elite status.
"Mr. Sterling," I said, tracing the gold pattern on the hotel's wallpaper. "Did you know that three years ago, Preston embezzled half a million dollars from an elderly client's account to cover his gambling debts?"
Silence hung heavy on the line.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sterling said, his voice dropping an octave.
"I think you do," I countered. "My father paid you back under the table. You swept it under the rug to protect Vanguard’s reputation, and you let Preston keep his job because my father threatened to pull his own accounts. You enabled him. You taught him that there are no consequences."
"Evelyn. Be reasonable—"
May you like
"I'm done being reasonable," I cut him off. "Keep your money, Mr. Sterling. And if I were you, I'd get your legal team ready. Because when the microphone goes live tomorrow, I’m not just exposing my brother. I’m exposing everyone who helped build him."
I ended the call and blocked the number.
The empire wasn't just crumbling. I was taking a sledgehammer to the foundation.
