“Cerberus Capital was a shell company,” I interrupted. “They were looking to offload their high-risk bad debt last week. They thought you were going to default, so they sold the note for pennies on the dollar.”
I leaned forward, locking eyes with him.
“I bought the note, Dad. I own the shell company. I own the debt. And most importantly, I own the default clause.”
He stared at the document, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on a hook. The realization washed over him in a slow, terrifying wave. He wasn’t sitting across from a daughter he could bully with fake doctors. He was sitting across from his sole creditor.
“I am calling the loan,” I said. “Full repayment. Twenty-eight million dollars. Due immediately.”
Edward’s face darkened to a sickly purple, a vein hammering at his temple. He shot up so fast his knees slammed the table, silverware jumping, and his heavy oak chair crashed backward onto the floor.
“This is fraud!” he bellowed, spit snapping from his mouth. “You can’t do this! I’ll tear it up!”
He lunged for the binder.
Lucas sprang up, his chair screeching. “Dad, stop!”
Edward shoved him hard. My brother stumbled into the sideboard, knocking a crystal decanter to the parquet. It exploded into glittering shards.
“Sit down, you coward!” Edward roared, eyes wild as he clawed at the binder’s pages, ready to rip my win into confetti.
I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. I simply picked up my phone. My thumb hovered over a pre-drafted message to Marcus. One word: Execute.
I watched my father wrestle the heavy binding, breathing ragged, dignity gone, like a man fighting a ghost. Then I hit send.
“Go ahead,” I said, my voice slicing through his panting. “Tear it up. Burn it. Eat it if you want.”
Edward froze, pages crumpled in his fists. He looked up at me, chest heaving.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, locking my screen and setting the phone down. “That binder is a courtesy copy. My legal team was waiting for my signal. They just electronically filed the Confession of Judgment with the Suffolk County Clerk. It’s on the docket now.”
I tapped the table once. “Public record, Dad. The debt is called. The default is registered. The clock already ran out.”
He let the binder drop with a heavy thud. “You can’t… I have assets. I have the house.”
“The house takes time to foreclose,” I corrected. I didn’t want the house. I wanted speed.
I rose, smoothing my dress as if we were discussing seating arrangements, not a collapse. “That’s why I reviewed the collateral agreement you signed with Cerberus. To get that bridge loan, you pledged your controlling stake in Ashford Financial as security.”
I stepped around the table until I was directly in front of him. He smelled like sour wine and fear.
