CHAPTER 4: THE THIRTY-MILLION-DOLLAR BLUFF
Evelyn forced a brittle, nervous laugh, trying desperately to rally the fading confidence of the surrounding spectators who were now watching with intense curiosity. “Ignore her, Marcus; she’s clearly suffering from a severe mental episode and needs to be dragged out into traffic,” Evelyn commanded sharply.
Marcus nodded, tightening his grip once more, eager to sweep the awkward incident under the rug before any corporate executives asked inconvenient questions. “You’re coming with me, lady, straight to the back alley where you belong,” Marcus grunted, pulling Charlotte toward the service corridor.
Instead of moving, Charlotte planted her sneakers firmly against the marble floor, locking her joints with immovable strength born of pure determination. With a sudden, explosive jerk, she wrenched her arm free from Marcus’s grasp, spinning around to face the entire assembly of New York elite.
“You all came here tonight to celebrate the grand acquisition of the Solmere portfolio by Apex Global Holdings, didn't you?” Charlotte announced, her voice echoing powerfully off the crystal chandeliers. Several prominent investors in the front row flinched visibly at the mention of Apex Global Holdings.
“Apex Global doesn't own this hotel yet, because the transfer requires the signature of the primary legal heir,” Charlotte continued, stepping backward toward the grand marble staircase. Marcus lunged forward to grab her again, but a sharp command from the mezzanine level froze him in his tracks.
“Stop right there, Marcus! Do not lay another finger on that woman!” shouted Arthur Sterling, Evelyn’s uncle and the corrupt chief operating officer of the hotel. Arthur came rushing down the golden staircase, his face pale with horror as he finally recognized the bruised face beneath the grime.
The entire lobby descended into a deafening, absolute silence as the COO of the Solmere Empire sprinted across the foyer toward a disheveled girl in a tank top. Evelyn blinked in utter confusion, staring at her uncle as if he had completely lost his mind in front of high society.
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“Uncle Arthur, thank goodness you’re here! This crazy beggar claims she owns the hotel and—” Evelyn started, pointing an accusing finger at Charlotte. Arthur ignored his niece entirely, skidding to a halt two feet away from Charlotte with his knees trembling beneath his expensive trousers.
“Miss... Miss Vale,” Arthur stammered breathlessly, his voice cracking with sheer terror and disbelief. “We... we were told you perished in that tragic boating accident off the coast of Maine last month.”
