Chapter 5 - The Public Unraveling
Despite my decision not to leak the forty-seven-minute video to the public, high society in a city like Nashville operates on an invisible, hyper-efficient telegraph network.
By Monday morning, thirty guests who had attended the Brentwood party had told thirty other influential people. By Monday afternoon, the story of Ashlyn Watson spraying the billionaire matriarch of Cross Global with a garden hose had become the exclusive, scandalized topic of every country club, high-end salon, and executive boardroom in the region.
When I arrived at the Cross Global headquarters in downtown Nashville at nine o'clock on Monday morning, the lobby was buzzing with quiet energy.
Lucas—the young waiter who had tried to help me on the lawn—was already sitting behind the main reception desk in a crisp, dark grey suit provided by our HR department.
When he saw me walk through the glass doors, he stood up instantly, bowing his head respectfully.
"Good morning, Mrs. Cross!" Lucas said, his eyes shining with genuine gratitude.
"Good morning, Lucas," I smiled, stopping by his desk. "How is your first day treating you?"
"It’s incredible, ma'am. Everyone has been so kind. I’ve already completed my orientation modules."
"Wonderful," I said smoothly. "Keep that compassionate heart of yours, Lucas. It will take you much further in life than an expensive suit ever could."
As I stepped into the private executive elevator with Kaleb, my secretary, Sarah, met us with a stack of urgent memo folders.
"Mrs. Cross, Mr. Cross," Sarah said quickly as the elevator ascended to the top floor. "The situation with Watson & Sterling Architecture has escalated dramatically over the weekend."
"In what way?" Kaleb asked.
"Two of their senior partners resigned at seven AM this morning," Sarah reported. "They caught wind of the bank’s credit line review and jumped ship to a rival firm, taking four major commercial clients with them. Furthermore, Miss Ashlyn Watson arrived at our building twenty minutes ago."
Kaleb’s eyebrows shot up. "She’s here?"
"She tried to force her way past security in the parking garage," Sarah nodded. "She was screaming that she needed to see Mr. Kaleb Cross to 'save her family.' Security escorted her off the property, but she is currently sitting in her car parked on the public street outside our main entrance."
I looked at Kaleb. "She’s desperate."
"She’s frantic," Kaleb corrected grimly. "Her business is ruined, her father’s firm is collapsing, and her social standing has been reduced to zero in less than forty-eight hours."
"Let her sit out there," I said as the elevator doors chimed open on the penthouse floor. "The autumn air will do her some good. It might remind her of how cold wet clothes feel."
We walked into my expansive corner office overlooking the city skyline. I sat down behind my mahogany desk, opening my laptop.
However, the universe had one final, dramatic card left to play in the downfall of the Watson family.
At eleven o'clock that morning, Arthur Vance walked into my office without knocking—an event that almost never happened. His face was unusually solemn.
"Eleanor," Arthur said, closing the door behind him. "We just received a call from the State Attorney’s Office."
I set my fountain pen down. "The Attorney's Office? Regarding what?"
"It seems that when Tennessee Commerce Bank initiated the audit of Scott Watson’s commercial loan files pursuant to our request," Arthur explained, pulling out a white document, "their forensic accountants uncovered something far worse than bad publicity."
Kaleb leaned forward from the couch. "What did they find?"
Arthur took a deep breath. "For the past three years, Scott Watson has been double-pledging collateral and falsifying invoice ledgers to secure multi-million-dollar loans across three different financial institutions. He wasn't just struggling financially, Kaleb. He was running a massive, sophisticated loan fraud scheme to maintain his family's luxurious lifestyle, pay for Ashlyn's designer clothes, and fund that Brentwood estate."
The room fell into a stunned, heavy silence.
"Fraud?" Kaleb whispered.
"Bank fraud, wire fraud, and tax evasion," Arthur confirmed. "The federal prosecutors have been quietly building a case against Scott for six months. Our bank’s sudden credit review simply forced his hand and triggered the emergency audit. Federal agents are serving search warrants at his firm and his home right now."
May you like
I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows down at the street below.
Parked near the curb was Ashlyn’s bright white luxury convertible. Even from fifty floors up, I could see two marked police cruisers pulling up behind her vehicle, their blue lights flashing against the glass buildings.
