Chapter 2 - THE PAPER EMPIRE CRACK-DOWN
By 7:00 AM the following morning, the news had shattered the financial world. Headlines across Bloomberg, Forbes, and local news outlets blared the same shocking story: "LUXURY BRAND L’ÉTOILE CROSS COLLAPSES OVERNIGHT AFTER LEASE REVOCATION."
Inside a penthouse suite overlooking Central Park, Elena sat at a massive mahogany desk, dressed in a sharp, tailored white suit. The timid woman who swept floors and fetched iced lattes was gone. In her place was the undisputed CEO of the Vance Group.
Across the room sat Marcus Vance, her stern, tactical uncle and head of Vance Group’s legal operations.
“The board is fully behind you, Elena,” Marcus said, sliding a thick blue folder across the desk. “When Vivian Cross insulted Leo last night, she didn’t just hurt a mother—she insulted the bloodline of Arthur Vance. By shutting down her main store, we’ve triggered a domino effect. Her suppliers are panicking, her bank accounts are frozen, and her private investors are pulling out.”
Elena opened the folder, reviewing the damage. “What about her personal debts?”
“Vivian leveraged everything she owned to expand into Paris,” Marcus replied with a cold smile. “Without the Fifth Avenue revenue, she goes bankrupt in less than forty-eight hours. She owes over $30 million to trade creditors.”
Suddenly, the intercom on Elena’s desk buzzed.
“Ms. Vance,” her secretary reported. “A woman named Vivian Cross is down in the lobby. She is causing a scene, crying, and demanding to see the CEO. Security is preparing to throw her out.”
Elena stared at the family portrait sitting on her desk—a photo of her late grandfather holding baby Leo.
“Don’t throw her out,” Elena said into the intercom. “Send her up.”
Five minutes later, the double doors burst open.
Vivian looked unrecognizable. Her perfectly styled hair was disheveled, her makeup was smeared from crying, and her expensive designer coat looked crumpled. She rushed into the office, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was sitting behind the massive executive desk.
“Elena…?” Vivian gasped, her hands shaking violently. “It’s… it’s really you?”
“It’s Ms. Vance to you,” Marcus warned sharply from the leather armchair.
Vivian fell to her knees, exactly the way Elena had been forced onto her knees on the cold marble floor the night before.
“Elena, please!” Vivian begged, tears streaming down her pale face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know who you were! If I had known you were Arthur Vance’s granddaughter, I would have treated you like royalty! Please, don’t destroy my life’s work!”
Elena didn’t move an inch. She leaned back in her chair, holding Vivian’s desperate gaze.
“That’s the difference between you and me, Vivian,” Elena said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp register. “You only show respect to people with money and power. You think it’s acceptable to crush a child and demean a mother just because you think they are powerless.”
“I’ll apologize to Leo!” Vivian cried out, crawling forward on her knees. “I’ll get on my knees in front of your son and beg for his forgiveness! Just give me back my flagship store!”
May you like
Elena leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk.
“You’re too late, Vivian. I’m not just taking your store,” Elena sneered. “I’m buying up all of your debt. By midnight, I won’t just be your landlord… I will be your owner.”
