Chapter 5 - The Financial Collapse
The next morning, 9:30 a.m.
The opening bell rang on Wall Street.
Inside the penthouse suite at St. Jude’s Hospital, I sat in a comfortable armchair with little Arthur resting safely against my chest, while Aunt Eleanor and our chief financial auditor, David Sterling (no relation to Victoria), monitored three laptop screens set up on the dining table.
On the business news channel playing silently on the wall-mounted TV, ticker symbols flashed in bright red across the bottom of the screen:
[HLW] HOLLOWAY INTL DROPS 18% FOLLOWING OUSTER OF CEO GRANT HOLLOWAY[HLW] NEW BOARD CHAIR CLARA VANCE ANNOUNCES FULL FORENSIC AUDIT OF STERLING MERGER
"It's working," David reported, highlighting a cascade of sell-orders. "The market was already nervous about Grant's aggressive leverage strategy. Now that news has leaked that Grant is being investigated for corporate fraud and asset stripping, the Sterling family is scrambling."
On the TV screen, a live broadcast cut to the front steps of the Sterling Financial Building.
Grant Holloway stood outside the building in a rumpled suit, trying frantically to walk alongside Victoria’s father, the ruthless billionaire Richard Sterling.
Grant was waving a folder in the air, shouting desperately over the noise of the press reporters: "Richard! Please! Look at the revised numbers! We can still execute the merger under a private shell company!"
Richard Sterling didn't even slow down. He paused at the top of the steps, turned around, and looked at Grant with pure, unadulterated contempt.
"Mr. Holloway," Richard Sterling’s voice boomed through the reporters' microphones. "Sterling Capital does not do business with disgraced, incompetent fools who manage to lose controlling interest of their own company to their ex-wife while trying to commit fraud."
Richard Sterling pulled off his gloves and pointed a finger at Grant.
"Our agreement is void," Sterling declared publicly. "And if your illegal transactions have damaged Sterling Capital’s stock by association, my lawyers will sue you into absolute bankruptcy."
Richard Sterling turned and walked into his building, the heavy bronze doors slamming shut right in Grant’s face.
The reporters swarmed Grant like vultures, flashing cameras in his sweating, pale face, shoving microphones into his mouth:"Grant! Is it true you tried to abandon your newborn triplets in the ICU?!""Grant! How does it feel to be fired by your own wife?!""Grant! Are you facing federal prison charges for wire fraud?!"
Grant covered his face with his jacket, stumbling backward down the steps, tripping over a curb, and falling awkwardly onto the pavement in front of dozens of national news cameras.
In the hospital suite, I took a gentle sip of my tea, looking down at little Arthur sleeping peacefully on my lap.
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"He built his whole life on vanity," I said softly. "And vanity is the easiest thing in the world to shatter."
"That was just his reputation, Clara," Eleanor said, turning her laptop screen toward me. "Now comes his money."
