I watched her eyes scan the gold embossed letters. Eleanor Nora Bell. Chief Executive Officer. Apex Capital. It took exactly seven seconds for her brain to connect the dots. Apex Capital. The firm that owned her husband’s debt.
The CEO her husband had been crying on the phone to, begging for mercy.
The woman standing in front of her. I watched all the blood drain from Vanessa’s face. The arrogant flush vanished, replaced by a sickly, chalky white. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted from the card, to the potato salad smeared on my dress, and finally up to my face.
The sheer, unadulterated terror in her eyes was intoxicating. It was better than any apology. “N-Nora?” she stammered, her voice shaking so badly she could barely form the syllables. “You’re… you’re Apex?” “Your husband, Richard, has been leaving increasingly desperate voicemails with my assistant all week,” I said smoothly, my voice carrying clearly to the eavesdropping crowd.
“He’s begging for a debt restructuring to avoid total bankruptcy. I told my team I would make my final decision regarding his liquidation on Monday.” Vanessa’s hands began to visibly tremble. The expensive cocktail ring on her finger caught the light as she reached out, as if to grab my arm, but thought better of it.
“Nora, please, I… I didn’t know. The plate, it was just a joke, it was just—” “A joke,” I interrupted softly. “Like the microphone. Like the milk.” “Please,” she whispered. The queen of Oakridge High was begging me in front of thirty people. Tears were welling up in her eyes, ruining her expensive makeup.
“We’ll lose everything. The house. The cars. Richard will be ruined.” I looked at the stain on my dress, then back at her.
I felt nothing but a profound, chilling sense of peace. The ghost of the sixteen-year-old girl behind the gym was finally put to rest.
“I know,” I replied. I turned around and walked out of the ballroom. Nobody said a word. The only sound was the clicking of my heels on the marble floor. I left my business card on the table, a heavy, unmovable weight in the center of Vanessa’s shattered world.
I got into my waiting car, told my driver to take me to the airport, and drafted an email to my legal team to deny Richard Sterling’s restructuring request and begin liquidation proceedings immediately. Paper really is the only place that doesn’t laugh back. Especially when it’s a foreclosure notice.
