“How generous.”
“She’s giving you another chance.”
“I didn’t ask for one.”
His tone changed.
“Listen carefully. If you’re not back by eight, I file for divorce. And when people hear you ran away the morning after your wedding because you refused to contribute financially, you’ll look ridiculous.”
I took a sip of wine.
“Blake, a man who charges his wife rent the morning after marrying her should be careful when discussing humiliation.”
“You think you’re too good for us now?”
“No. I simply finally understand you.”
He scoffed.
“You really expect me to believe that ridiculous mansion story?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“You’ll believe it eventually.”
I ended the call.
The next morning, I walked into the headquarters of Sterling Crest Holdings in downtown San Diego.
There was no cheap synthetic blouse.
No low-cost handbag.
No costume.
I wore a charcoal designer suit and heels.
Senior executives greeted me as I crossed the lobby.
“Good morning, Chairwoman Montgomery.”
My chief of staff, Ryan Cole, was waiting inside my office with a thick folder.
“You asked for a full review of the Bradford family.”
I opened it.
Within five minutes, I understood everything.
Blake Bradford’s supposedly booming construction company, Bradford Development, was collapsing.
Its projects were overleveraged.
Subcontractors were unpaid.
Multiple creditors were threatening lawsuits.
Cash reserves were nearly gone.
The mansion Margaret bragged about was mortgaged almost to its full value.
And Margaret herself had a gambling problem.
She had borrowed hundreds of thousands of dollars from private lenders to cover losses at underground poker games.
“They needed your salary,” Ryan said.
I looked up.
“What?”
“They weren’t asking for rent because of principle. They desperately needed monthly cash.”
I laughed quietly.
“So the wealthy family was trying to survive on the paycheck of a woman they considered beneath them.”
“Essentially.”
I flipped another page.
“What’s Blake’s biggest problem?”
Ryan pointed to a file.
“A luxury resort project in Palm Springs. He needs a major investor within weeks or the entire company may collapse.”
“How much?”
“Approximately forty million dollars.”
I leaned back.
Sterling Crest owned dozens of investment vehicles.
One of them, Northshore Ventures, was largely unknown outside financial circles.
“Have Northshore contact him.”
Ryan looked at me.
“You want to invest?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“I want him to believe we might.”
