Chapter 4 - The Shattered Mirror
By eight o'clock the following morning, the sun was trying to break through the thick grey blanket of fog hanging over Noe Valley.
I sat at my kitchen table, wearing a crisp grey wool cardigan, drinking my black coffee out of my favorite ceramic mug. On the table before me sat three separate phones, my navy notebook, and a stack of financial documents dating back to the day Thomas passed away.
My landline rang precisely at 8:05 a.m.
I picked it up. "Margaret Vance."
"Margaret, it's David Sterling from First Bay Commerce," said the familiar, sharp voice of my longtime commercial banker. "I received Arthur Harrison's formal notice fifteen minutes ago. Is this correct? You are exercising your right as primary guarantor to freeze the revolving credit line for Vance & Associates?"
"That is correct, David," I said calmly. "Effective immediately. Do not honor any outstanding checks, electronic drafts, or corporate credit transactions originating from that account."
David let out a low whistle over the line. "Margaret... you realize what this means for the firm? They have a thirty-thousand-dollar payroll processing on Friday. If this credit line is frozen, their operational account won't have enough liquidity to clear the direct deposits."
"Then the chief executive officer will have to find alternative capital, David," I replied coldly. "Or face the state labor board for unpaid wages. Please email me the confirmation of the freeze within the hour."
"Understood, Margaret. It's done."
I hung up the phone and took a sip of my coffee.
Five minutes later, my mobile phone exploded with calls.
First, it was Chloe. Her name flashed across the screen four times in a row. I set the phone face down on the table and let it ring until it went to voicemail.
Then, the landline rang again. I picked it up on the third ring.
"Margaret! You crazy, spiteful old monster!" Brenda’s voice shrieked down the line, so loud I had to hold the receiver two inches away from my ear. "What have you done to my daughter's credit cards?! We were at the grocery store and her card was declined! You are destroying this family out of pure malice!"
"Good morning, Brenda," I said, my tone as serene as a calm sea. "I am not destroying your family. I am simply cutting off the illegal pipeline of funds you have been stealing from my home equity to fund your Reno gambling habit."
Silence descended on the line, heavy and terrified.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Brenda stuttered, her previous rage instantly replaced by stammering fear.
"My legal counsel filed a formal complaint with the San Francisco District Attorney’s Financial Crimes Unit forty-five minutes ago," I continued smoothly. "I suggested they examine the wire transfers between Vance & Associates and C&B Creative Holdings from January of last year to the present. You might want to retain a criminal defense attorney, Brenda. Reno is nice this time of year, but federal wire fraud carries a mandatory minimum sentence."
I hung up the receiver before she could answer, placing it gently back onto the cradle.
At ten o'clock, the heavy iron gate outside my front porch clanged open.
I looked out the bay window. A taxicab was pulled up to the curb, and Chloe was marching up my front steps, her face pale, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, wearing oversized sunglasses to hide her swollen eyes.
She didn't knock. She beat her fists against my heavy oak front door.
"Margaret! Open this door right now!" she screamed from the porch. "Open this door, you psycho!"
I walked calmly down the hallway, unlocked the deadbolt, and pulled the door open six inches, keeping the heavy brass security chain engaged.
Chloe glared at me through the gap, her hands shaking, her designer jacket rumpled. "You froze the company accounts! The payroll system bounced this morning! The vendors are calling Julian's phone every two minutes! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
"I have restored financial order to my estate, Chloe," I said, standing on the other side of the chain.
"You're destroying Julian's life!" she yelled, tears of rage springing to her eyes. "He worked for five years to build that firm! If the payroll doesn't clear on Friday, his employees are going to walk out! The whole business will collapse!"
"Julian didn't build that firm, Chloe," I said softly, looking into her eyes. "I built it with my husband's life insurance money, my savings, and my home equity. Julian was merely the manager I appointed to run it. And you were the parasite who bled it dry."
Chloe gasped, taking a step back as if I had physically struck her. "You... you can't talk to me like that! I am his wife!"
"And I am his mother, the silent partner, and the primary guarantor," I replied. "And unlike you, Chloe, I know how to read an audit. If you want those accounts unfrozen, you have until four o'clock this afternoon to sign a full confession of financial fraud regarding C&B Creative Holdings, surrender all equity shares in Vance & Associates, and agree to a formal legal separation from my son."
Chloe stared at me in absolute, utter disbelief. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
"You're insane," she finally whispered. "Julian loves me. He will never leave me for you!"
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"Julian is currently at his office, meeting with my forensic accountants and his own bankruptcy lawyer," I said, looking at my wristwatch. "I suggest you go home and pack your bags, Chloe. Because by four o'clock today, the locks on your Pacific Heights apartment—which is leased under the corporate name—will be changed."
I closed the oak door gently, turned the deadbolt, and walked back to the kitchen to finish my tea.
