“The three hundred thousand he paid has been flagged as illegally embezzled corporate assets,” the manager continued ruthlessly. “Our legal department has already received a federal injunction to return the funds. So, you do not have a single dollar of credit here.” He paused, raising a hand. “Security. Throw this woman out onto the street.”
Three heavily built, emotionless security guards in tailored black suits materialized from the corridors. They grabbed Chloe by both arms in an unbreakable vice grip.
“What are you doing?! Don’t touch me! Let me go!” Chloe shrieked hysterically, writhing desperately. Her stilettos scraped wildly against the polished marble floor, leaving black scuff marks.
“Toss her,” the manager ordered without blinking.
No matter how Chloe kicked and cursed, the trained guards remained unyielding. They dragged her toward the exit like a rabid animal. Her brand new Chanel jacket stretched and lost its shape. Her flawless salon blowout turned into a chaotic bird’s nest. Finally, with a heavy, humiliating thud, she was ruthlessly hurled out the glass doors, landing hard on the rough, wet asphalt of the driveway.
Chloe scrambled to her feet. The skin on her palms was scraped raw and bleeding. Trembling with uncontrollable rage and sudden terror, she pulled out her phone with its newly cracked screen and dialed David.
Meanwhile, in the CEO’s office of the Thorne Group, a far more terrifying, apocalyptic panic was unfolding.
The CFO literally crawled into David’s office on his hands and knees, his face as pale as a bedsheet. Red-stamped folders and legal documents spilled across the carpet.
“Mr. Thorne! Disaster!” the CFO gasped, clutching his chest. “In the last ten minutes, all our corporate accounts, your personal bank accounts, your offshore trusts, the credit cards, the real estate deeds… everything has been frozen!”
David leaped up, snatching the faxed papers from the man’s trembling hands. The bold, terrifying letters burned his retinas: ASSET FREEZE. SEC INJUNCTION. FEDERAL RESERVE MANDATE.
“This is impossible!” David roared, throwing the papers in the air. “On what grounds? We had over thirty million in liquid capital!”
“Mr. Thorne,” the CFO swallowed hard, his eyes filled with despair. “That thirty million… that’s the money you illegally transferred from the restricted escrow fund yesterday to pay for Miss Chloe’s country club and spa memberships. The bank received an anonymous tip from the absolute highest authority regarding suspected embezzlement and wire fraud. The US Attorney’s Office is involved. The thirty million has been forcibly recalled.”
An explosion went off in David’s head. Severing cash flow at such a critical moment meant a total halt to all ongoing construction projects. It meant aggressive creditors would be breaking down the company’s glass doors by tomorrow morning.
“This is Catherine’s doing!” David slammed his fist onto his mahogany desk so hard his coffee cup shattered.
The CFO looked at his boss as if he were a certified idiot. “Mr. Thorne, Catherine is a housewife. This is a top-tier federal asset seizure warrant. To get this executed in ten minutes, you need the signature of a federal judge or the direct influence of the head of the Fed! Where would a woman who begged you for grocery money get those kinds of connections?”
David clenched his jaw, his chest heaving as he tried to force oxygen into his lungs. Yes. The CFO was right. That pathetic loser didn’t have that kind of power. If she did, she wouldn’t have been his unpaid maid for six years.
A twisted logic bloomed in David’s panicked mind. Could it be that the powerful, shadow family backing Chloe had decided to teach him a lesson for being sloppy with the escrow funds? Yes. That had to be it. It was a test from the higher-ups before the billionaire gala.
He snatched his ringing phone. Chloe’s hysterical sobbing blasted through the speaker.
“David! They threw me out on the street! Right onto the pavement!” she wailed. “They said your cards are blocked and you’re bankrupt! I was so humiliated! And guess who I saw there? Catherine! That bitch was sitting there drinking tea and laughing at me!”
Catherine is there, too?
Bad blood rushed straight to David’s head. That bad luck curse of a woman. She must have stalked Chloe, insulted her, and somehow angered Chloe’s mysterious benefactors. That was why his accounts were frozen. It all made twisted sense to him now.
“Chloe, baby, don’t cry,” David soothed, grinding his teeth. “Listen to me. This is all that trash’s fault. I promise you, you are going to that gala tonight. I’ll send my private car for you. Furthermore, I will force Catherine to drag herself there and get on her knees to apologize to you in front of New York’s entire elite.”
Hanging up, David immediately dialed the number he had arrogantly blocked just two days ago.
I sat in the back of a chauffeured Maybach, watching the New York skyline roll by. My phone buzzed. I let it ring for a long, agonizing minute before I finally connected the call. I said nothing.
“Catherine,” David’s voice dripped with venom and misplaced authority. “I don’t care what dirty, stalker tricks you used to follow Chloe today, but you will take your little brat and drag yourself to the entrance of the Grand Aster Hotel tonight.”
“Why?” My voice was as calm and flat as the surface of a frozen lake.
“To get on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness!” David roared, the veins likely popping on his thick neck. “Because of your poverty-stricken, loser aura, you ruined my financial karma today! Tonight’s reception determines the life and death of our family. If you don’t want your daughter blacklisted from every decent school in the state, be at the hotel entrance at exactly eight p.m.”
He let out a cruel, desperate sneer. “You will kneel in front of all the reporters, slap yourself in the face ten times, and declare that you’re a shameless lunatic. Otherwise, I swear to God, you won’t even be hired to scrub toilets in this city.”
A long silence followed. Just as David likely thought I had been struck dumb with absolute terror, a light, cold chuckle escaped my lips.
“Fine. Eight p.m. The Grand Aster Hotel. Lily and I will be there exactly on time.”
I disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the leather seat.
If only he knew that he wasn’t inviting a lamb to the slaughter. He was rolling out the red carpet for the executioner.
Chapter 3: The Emperor’s Court
Night fell, and the city lights flared, turning Manhattan into a grid of gold and neon. The most luxurious venue on the eastern seaboard, the Grand Aster Hotel, was entirely locked down.
The perimeter was secured by hundreds of armed, black-suited private military contractors. A plush velvet red carpet stretched from the hotel’s gilded doors all the way down Fifth Avenue. The rapid-fire flashes from the press corps on both sides looked like a dense, rolling thunderstorm, capturing every business magnate and hedge fund king stepping out of their luxury vehicles.
This wasn’t just another charity gala. This was the first public appearance in half a decade of the legendary Wall Street titan, Richard Sterling. The mysterious, phantom emperor who controlled global capital flows. Just breathing the same recycled air as the old man could send a second-rate company’s stock soaring into the stratosphere.
A rented stretch Lincoln Town Car slowly pulled to a stop at the end of the red carpet. David, dressed in a tuxedo he mistakenly considered the height of fashion, stepped out first and offered his hand to Chloe. She had managed to change into a gaudy, blindingly silver dress covered in fake, oversized rhinestones.
“David, look at the scale of this,” Chloe whispered, her grip tightening on his arm as she ogled billionaires she had previously only seen in Forbes magazine. She lowered her voice anxiously. “Are you sure they’ll let us in?”
“Of course. I used major connections to get guest-zone invitations,” David puffed out his chest, projecting an air of supreme importance. Even though his accounts were frozen, he firmly believed that if he could just latch onto the Sterling family ship tonight, all his financial woes would vanish.
They were just about to strike a pose for the flashing cameras when a beat-up, yellow New York taxi slammed its brakes on the opposite side of the carpet. It was completely, hilariously out of place among the Maybachs, Bentleys, and Rolls-Royces.
The rusted door opened. I stepped out, holding Lily securely by the hand.
I wasn’t wearing a screaming, flashy gown. I wore an utterly simple, floor-length black velvet dress. No visible logos, no excessive lace, and zero jewelry. But thanks to the flawless, almost maniacally precise Parisian tailoring, it perfectly accentuated my figure. The deep black velvet contrasted violently with my pale skin.
I exuded an aura of quiet luxury and suffocating superiority that made people instinctively lower their eyes. Lily, too, was dressed in a simple black poncho coat. Her huge eyes darted around in fear of the crowds, but her face was scrubbed clean. She looked like a melancholic little princess from a Gothic fairy tale.
The reporters, bored of the standard corporate suits, involuntarily swung their massive lenses toward this bizarre, magnetic scene. Camera flashes rained down on us like meteorites.
David’s face instantly mutated from smugness to pitch-black rage. What a disgrace, he must have thought. Feeling the prickly, questioning gazes of the elite piercing his back, he ripped his arm away from Chloe and marched aggressively toward me.
“Have you completely lost your goddamn mind?!” David bellowed, shoving a thick finger in my face. His voice was so loud and abrasive that even the paparazzi flashes paused for a second. “What are these mourning rags? I ordered you to come apologize to Chloe, and you drag your brat here in a garbage taxi just to humiliate me?”
Chloe, clicking her stilettos, hurried up beside him. She swept her arrogant, jealous gaze over my unbranded dress and hissed, “Oh, look. It’s the proud Mrs. Catherine. Left the Thorne mansion and now you can’t even afford normal clothes. Bought that knockoff trash at a flea market, didn’t you? Aren’t you afraid security will beat you and throw you out like a homeless vagrant?”
I completely ignored her barking. I looked down at my daughter, gently squeezing her small, trembling fingers to reassure her. Then, I slowly raised my head. My eyes, dark and cold as the Mariana Trench, locked directly onto David.
“I’m here,” I said softly. “Didn’t you promise to teach me how to survive in this city?”
“Don’t get smart with me!” David, sensing a crowd gathering, wanted to violently flex his power to impress Chloe. He pointed a rigid finger at the marble hotel steps. “Since you’re here, fulfill the deal. Take your dead-weight brat, go to the steps, and drop to your knees in front of Chloe for everyone to see. Tell her you were wrong to dirty her dress.”
“Yes. On your knees,” Chloe tilted her chin up triumphantly. “Let this little brat who got her teeth knocked out learn a valuable lesson. Tonight, she’s going to kneel and lick my shoes clean.”
Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd. Impeccably dressed members of the elite exchanged shocked, disgusted glances at the sheer malice radiating from this couple.
Hearing the words lick my shoes, Lily flinched violently. The phrase awakened the animal terror in my five-year-old. In a split second, she hid behind my legs, gripping the velvet of my dress with a white-knuckled death grip. Tears welled up in her massive eyes.
In that exact millisecond, my gaze became genuinely terrifying. It was the absolute, dead calm right before a deep-sea leviathan breaches the surface to rip a ship to splinters.
I softly stroked Lily’s hair, then slowly took one single step forward.
Just one step.
But David, a six-foot-tall man, instinctively stumbled backward, his face paling as he felt an icy sweat run down his spine. “What… what are you planning? This is Sterling territory! Make one wrong move and security will break your legs!”
I didn’t even grace him with a verbal response. I merely turned my head slightly toward the massive man in a black tactical suit standing near the doors—the Chief of Security for the hotel. I raised a single finger and beckoned him over.
The gesture was so casual, so profoundly dismissive, it was as if I were calling a disobedient golden retriever.
The Head of Security, who had been patrolling the perimeter with a scowl, was initially taken aback by the audacity. But as he squinted against the camera flashes and registered my face, his entire massive body convulsed as if he had been struck by a thousand volts of electricity.
His face instantly turned deadly serious. Sprinting from his post, he rushed toward me with the speed of an Olympic sprinter.
Seeing the fierce, armed Head of Security charging at us, David rejoiced. “Haha! Kate, you’re dead now! This private firm is famous for being ruthless! Brace yourself!”
Thud.
The Head of Security flew up to me, coming to a violent halt. He didn’t even glance at David. He snapped his heavy combat boots together, stood at absolute, rigid attention, and forcefully bent at a strict ninety-degree angle, delivering a profound military bow.
“My deepest apologies! A severe lapse in our perimeter security! We allowed these flies to disturb you!” the security chief’s voice boomed like a bronze bell, making David’s eardrums ring.
David’s cruel smile froze, melting rapidly into a pathetic, confused grimace. “Are you blind? She’s a broke beggar I threw out on the street! Why are you bowing to her? Throw her out!”
The Head of Security snapped upright and shot David a glare as sharp and lethal as a combat knife, his hand dropping to the stun gun at his hip.
I slightly raised my hand, halting the chief’s movement. “Today is a good day,” I commanded, my voice icy and resonant. “Let’s do without blood. They have invitations to the guest zone, don’t they? Let them through.”
“Understood!” The Head of Security took two steps back and respectfully cleared the path, gesturing for David and Chloe to enter.
David and Chloe were in total, paralyzing shock. What the hell was happening? Did this meathead’s brain short circuit? But their colossal vanity, and their desperate thirst for the billionaire investments waiting inside, overpowered their fragile reason.
David aggressively adjusted his jacket and scoffed. “You got lucky. Apparently, old man Sterling is in a charitable mood today and is letting even the charity cases in. But you just wait, Kate. Once we get inside, I’ll make you cry.”
With those words, he grabbed Chloe by the arm and dragged her toward the gilded doors, his nose stuck in the air.
I held Lily’s hand and unhurriedly followed them inside. A cruel, anticipating smirk played on my lips.
The higher the monkey climbs the tree, the more you see of its behind. And this was just the appetizer. The real slaughter awaited them inside.
Chapter 4: The Annihilation
The grand ballroom under the towering glass dome was staggeringly opulent. Giant, tiered crystal chandeliers refracted blinding, kaleidoscopic light across the room. The air was thick with the clinking of crystal champagne flutes and the heavy scent of Tom Ford and Baccarat Rouge. The absolute, undeniable cream of New York society had gathered here.
However, the atmosphere was incredibly strange, almost suffocatingly tense. No one dared to speak above a hushed murmur. The eyes of every billionaire, senator, and tech mogul kept darting nervously toward the far end of the hall, toward a set of massive, heavy double oak doors adorned with gold ornamentation.
It was the only entrance to the ultra-VIP inner sanctum. Rumor had it that Richard Sterling was currently in there, holding court.
Dragging Chloe inside, David cranked his neck like a lost tourist in Times Square, trying to spot businessmen he could suck up to. But within minutes, he noticed something was horribly wrong. The partners and suppliers who used to speak to him, even if only out of obligatory politeness, were now backing away from him as if he were actively radiating nuclear fallout.
