Chapter 5 - The Glass House Collapses
“Jackson?” Richard Evans interjected nervously, stepping onto the stage and grabbing his daughter’s arm. “What is the meaning of this? Eleanor, put that wig back on! You’re embarrassing everyone!”
“I am done being embarrassed, Richard,” I said, turning to face him. “And I am done funding the Evans family debt.”
I pointed toward the massive projection screens on either side of the ballroom stage—screens that had been set up to show a romantic slideshow of Jackson and Natalie’s childhood photos.
Judith was standing near the AV booth in the back of the room. She gave me a single, crisp nod and hit Enter on the master laptop.
The romantic slideshow vanished. In its place appeared a high-resolution scan of a bank wire cancellation receipt, stamped by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York at 7:42 PM today.
TRANSACTION STATUS: REVOKED BY TRUSTEE
AMOUNT: $120,000,000.00 USD
REASON: SUSPICION OF FRAUD / BENEFICIARY DISQUALIFICATION
A roar of noise erupted in the ballroom. Several of Richard Evans’s primary creditors stood up from their tables, their eyes wide as they stared at the screens.
“What did you do?!” Richard screamed, losing his composure completely. He lunged toward me, but Jackson suddenly stepped between us, shoving his father-in-law back.
“Is this true, Natalie?!” Jackson demanded, his voice cracking with a mixture of betrayal and raw horror. He held the phone inches from his bride’s face. “Is this you in my mother’s room last night? Answer me!”
Natalie looked at the phone, then at the projection screens showing the canceled $120 million wire, and finally at the room full of three hundred socialites filming every second of her destruction on their smartphones.
The sweet, innocent facade she had worn for two years shattered into million sharp pieces.
“So what if it is?!” Natalie spat, her voice turning sharp, ugly, and hysterical. She shoved Jackson’s phone away. “Look at her! She’s an old, pathetic relic clinging to money she doesn't even know how to spend! You promised me that money, Jackson! Your father is dead! It belongs to us!”
The silence in the room was so absolute you could hear the champagne bubbles popping in the glasses on the tables.
“It never belonged to you, Natalie,” I said, stepping closer to her. “Frank and I built every dollar of this fortune with our own hands. We built it on honor, hard work, and loyalty. You thought because I was old, because I was quiet, and because I loved my son, I was weak.”
I pulled a thick Manila folder from beneath the podium where Judith had hidden it earlier.
“This folder contains the forensic accounting audit of Evans & Miller Development,” I announced, holding it high for the room to see. “It shows that Natalie and her father have already embezzled $1.4 million from Jackson’s personal business account over the last six months to pay off illegal offshore margin calls.”
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Richard Evans looked like he was having a heart attack. He grabbed his chest, staggering backward off the stage stairs.
“And as for the wedding costs tonight,” I added, looking at the hotel manager who was standing near the entrance with two security guards, “I have formally disputed all charges on the corporate account. Mr. Evans, the $240,000 bill for this ballroom is now under your name. Good luck paying it.”
