Chapter 6 - The Freezing OutBy that afternoon, the news of the Montgomery Tech scandal had leaked.
It wasn't just a corporate dispute; it was a sensational drama. Major news networks carried the story: "THE HOUSEWIFE WHO OWNS THE EMPIRE: SIMONE HARRIS FILES FOR DIVORCE, THREATENS TO PULL THE PLUG ON MONTGOMERY TECH."
Images of my bruised temple, leaked from the medical report Belle had filed, were displayed alongside Preston's glossy magazine covers. The contrast was devastating. The golden boy of American tech was suddenly revealed to be a domestic abuser and a corporate embezzler.
Preston spent the day barricaded in his office, desperately trying to raise eighty-five million dollars from private lenders to cure the default. But the financial world is a fickle beast; the moment the blood is in the water, the sharks steer clear. No bank would touch him. No venture capital firm would risk throwing good money after bad.
At 6:00 PM, my phone rang. It was Beatrice Montgomery.
I answered it, sitting in my quiet hotel suite, sipping a cup of hot chamomile tea.
"Simone," Beatrice’s voice was no longer soft or sweet. It was sharp, cold, and dripping with venom. "You think you're very clever, don't you? Dragging our family name through the mud. You are destroying my son's life."
"Your son destroyed his own life, Beatrice, the moment he decided to use his hands instead of his brain," I replied. "And let’s be honest. You helped him. You wanted my grandmother’s apartment not because you needed the fourteen hundred dollars a month, but because you couldn't stand the fact that a girl 'from my position' owned something you couldn't control."
"You are a classless, ungrateful little girl," Beatrice hissed. "We took you in. We gave you a life."
"You gave me a cage," I said. "And now, I’m locking you inside it. Have you checked your foundation’s bank accounts lately, Beatrice?"
Silence stretched over the line. I could hear her sharp, shallow breathing.
"My legal team has filed a formal complaint with the New York State Attorney General and the IRS," I said. "By tomorrow morning, the Beatrice Montgomery Foundation’s assets will be frozen. The state will be conducting a full audit of every dollar that went through your hands. I suggest you find a very good defense attorney, Beatrice. Pearls don't look very good on a prison jumpsuit."
May you like
I hung up before she could reply.
There was no joy in my victory, only a profound sense of relief. The shackles were falling off, link by link.
