Chapter 3: The Long Game
The nights leading up to the gala had been filled with secret meetings. Harrison had spent the last half-year investigating the anomalies in his own empire. He had discovered that Eleanor wasn't just a socialite; she was the mastermind behind the long-term embezzlement of the Blackwood funds, using them to inflate the Vance stock price.
He had hired private investigators to track down the descendants of the Blackwood family. When he found Sarah, he hadn't approached her with fanfare. He had watched her work, admired her resilience, and realized she was everything Eleanor was not: compassionate, hardworking, and genuine.
He had orchestrated the "invitation" for Sarah to attend the gala to deliver the files, knowing Eleanor’s toxic nature would eventually trigger a confrontation.
In the back of the gala, the press began to stir. The phones were out. The livestream was capturing everything.
“You think this is over?” Eleanor tried to reclaim her voice, her eyes wild. “I’m a Vance! I’m the face of this company!”
“You’re a felon,” Harrison corrected.
He signaled to the two men standing by the door—not security, but federal marshals. “The audit report was submitted to the SEC an hour ago. By tomorrow morning, the Vance name will be synonymous with fraud. And as for you, Eleanor, you’ll be synonymous with a prison cell.”
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Sarah stepped forward, her voice surprisingly steady. “I didn't want your money, Eleanor. I wanted the truth. My grandfather spent his life building this foundation to help the sick. You spent yours using it to buy dresses.”
Eleanor tried to bolt, but her heels betrayed her. She stumbled, falling to her knees in the center of the ballroom floor—the same floor she had strutted across with arrogance only moments before.
