Chapter 6 - Unraveling the Fake Heiress
Forty-eight hours after the disaster at the Plaza Hotel, the real nightmare
began for Celeste Grant.
She sat in the living room of her luxury rental apartment in Soho—an apartment
whose rent had been pre-paid for six months using Adrian’s now-frozen corporate
card. The floor was littered with crumpled legal notices, half-empty coffee
cups, and frantic messages from her suppliers.
Her phone rang. The caller ID displayed Maison de Soie - Paris Production.
Celeste grabbed the phone, her voice desperate. "Jean-Paul! Tell me the silk
shipments for Fashion Week have cleared customs!"
"Miss Grant," a cold French voice replied over the static. "Our banking liaison
informed us this morning that your secondary letter of credit has bounced.
Furthermore, we received a formal cease-and-desist letter from the Vance
Conglomerate’s European legal team regarding copyright infringement on your
entire autumn line."
"What? Copyright infringement? That's ridiculous! I designed those patterns
myself!"
"Miss Grant, the Vance legal team provided digital timestamps proving that your
'signature pattern' was created by Vivian Vance for the Vance Textile Archive
in 2018. If the outstanding production balance of €450,000 is not wired by 5:00
PM Central European Time, we are seizing the inventory and turning the matter
over to the French Commercial Tribunal."
The line went dead.
Celeste screamed in frustration, throwing her iPhone against the plush sofa.
At that moment, the front door clicked open. Adrian walked in, looking haggard
and unkempt. His expensive suit was wrinkled, dark purple bags hung beneath his
bloodshot eyes, and he reeked of cheap scotch.
"Where have you been?" Celeste demanded, jumping to her feet. "My manufacturers
are canceling my contracts! The French lawyers are threatening to sue me! You
told me you had offshore reserves in the Caymans!"
Adrian didn't look at her. He collapsed onto an armchair, burying his face in
his hands. "The Caymans account was frozen this morning under an emergency
federal warrant. Vivian filed an ex parte petition alleging transnational fraud.
I can't access a single dime."
"What do you mean you can't access a dime?" Celeste shrieked, her voice turning
venomous. "You promised me that you controlled the Vance empire! You told me she
was just a figurehead who signed whatever you put in front of her!"
Adrian looked up, his eyes bloodshot and full of sudden hostility. "She was a
figurehead! But her father built a fortress around her trust fund that requires
dual biometric authorization for any transfer over $5 million! I thought I had
bypassed it through the Lake Tahoe collateral loan, but she caught it before the
final clearance!"
"You idiot!" Celeste screamed, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at his
face. "You told me you were a billionaire! You told me we were going to take
over the entire board! You dragged me into your fraud, and now my reputation is
completely ruined! The fashion world is blacklisting me!"
Adrian stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over her. "Your
reputation? You were a nobody working at a regional design firm making sixty
thousand a year until I convinced Vivian to give you a senior title! You wore
her jewelry, you slept in her guest house, you drank her vintage wine, and you
begged me to buy you that Aspen penthouse! Don't you dare act like a victim,
Celeste!"
"Get out!" Celeste cried, grabbing a heavy glass vase from the side table and
hurling it at him. The vase smashed against the wall behind Adrian, shattering
into a hundred pieces. "Get out of my apartment!"
"This apartment was paid for with my corporate expense account!" Adrian roared.
"You have nothing without me!"
"And you have nothing at all!" Celeste spat, tears of pure venom running down
her face. "You're not a visionary CEO, Adrian. You were just Vivian Vance's
lapdog. And now that she’s kicked you out of the house, you're nothing but a
broke, pathetic fraud!"
Adrian stared at her, his fists shaking with violent fury. For three years, he
had convinced himself that Celeste loved him for his intellect, his charm, and
his power.
Now, standing among the shattered glass of a Soho apartment he could no longer
afford, the brutal truth hit him like a physical blow: Celeste had never loved
him. She had loved the Vance fortune he had temporarily stolen.
May you like
Before Adrian could speak, a loud, authoritative knock rattled the apartment
door.
"New York City Sheriff's Department!" a stern voice boomed through the wood. "We
have a court-ordered writ of execution and property seizure for Celeste Grant
and Adrian Cole! Open the door immediately!"
