“Miss Blackwood, good evening. I apologize for interrupting dinner, but I’m confirming the transfer you requested. Your father has authorized the movement of your ten billion dollar inheritance into your personal control. The funds should clear within the hour.”
The silence became absolute—like air being sucked from Victoria’s lungs. Her fork slipped from suddenly useless fingers and struck porcelain with a sharp clang that seemed to ring forever.
“Also,” Arthur continued, perfectly professional, “regarding the proposed merger with Sterling Technologies. As you instructed this morning, I drafted the cancellation notice citing the partner’s demonstrated lack of integrity and ethical standards. Shall I execute termination immediately, or would you prefer to review the documentation first?”
Mark’s head jerked up so fast it looked painful. Color drained from his face until he resembled a wax figure—pale, rigid, stunned. His mouth worked, opening and closing, but no sound came.
“Blackwood?” he finally rasped, the name catching in his throat. “You’re… you’re that Blackwood?”
I rose slowly, deliberately. My chair scraped the hardwood—a harsh sound that made Mark flinch as if I’d struck him.
“Yes, Arthur,” I said into the phone, eyes locked on Victoria’s stricken face. “Execute the cancellation immediately. And Arthur—tell Daddy I’m coming home. I’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”
“Of course, Miss Blackwood. I’ll make arrangements. Have a pleasant evening.”
I ended the call.
The room stayed frozen except for Victoria’s shallow, frantic breathing. I lifted the vinaigrette-soaked check with two fingers, holding it like it was contaminated. I raised it to the chandelier, studying it with exaggerated curiosity.
“Five thousand dollars,” I said conversationally. “Victoria, my father spends more than this on horse feed every week. Sometimes twice, depending on the season.”
I tore the check down the middle. Riiip.
The sound was ridiculously loud.
Then I tore it again. And again. And again—until it became nothing but confetti.
“Keep the change,” I smiled, letting the pieces drift onto Victoria’s lap, scattering across her designer dress like snow. “You’ll need it for the bankruptcy lawyers.”