The microphone rolled across the stage floor and stopped against Harrison's polished leather shoe.
Harrison stepped over it. He moved his large frame to block Chloe from the crowd's view. He squared his shoulders, projecting the authority that made him a feared man on Wall Street.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Harrison said, raising his voice to carry over the rising murmurs. "Please excuse this disruption. My adopted daughter has been struggling with severe mental health issues. She is clearly having an episode. She injured herself in a desperate cry for attention."
A few guests in the back nodded, their faces relaxing into expressions of pity. The narrative was easy to swallow. A troubled orphan jealous of the perfect biological daughter.
Chloe let out a short, breathy sound. It was not quite a laugh.
"A cry for attention," Chloe said. She stepped out from behind Harrison's shadow, forcing the crowd to look at her again. "Who trades their life in the freezing currents of the Hudson for attention?"
Victoria found her voice. She pressed her hands against her chest, her fingers digging into her diamond necklace. She arranged her features into a mask of maternal sorrow.
"Chloe, sweetheart," Victoria said, her voice trembling perfectly. "We have given you everything. A home. An education. Why are you doing this? Your jealousy is destroying you."
Victoria turned her head toward the side of the stage. She locked eyes with Alfred Peterson, the Sterling family's head of security.
"Alfred," Victoria said sharply. "Take her to the car. She needs a doctor."
Alfred signaled to three men in dark suits. They began moving toward the stage stairs.
Chloe turned her back to the crowd. She faced Victoria.
"Let us talk about what you gave me," Chloe said. Her voice dropped, meant only for the people on the stage. "Let us talk about the trust fund."
Victoria's hand jerked. The diamond necklace snapped. A dozen loose stones scattered across the floor.
"The trust fund my biological parents left," Chloe said. She took a step toward Victoria. "The one you drained to cover the margin calls on your failed real estate ventures."
Harrison's head snapped toward Chloe. His jaw locked. He knew about the missing funds. He had helped forge the audit reports.
Serena let out a loud, theatrical sob from the floor. "Make her stop! She is crazy!"
Chloe reached into the deep pocket of her wet coat. Her fingers closed around a thick plastic bag. She pulled it out.
It was a heavy-duty waterproof seal. Inside was a stack of folded papers.
Chloe ripped the top of the bag open. She pulled the papers out. The edges were slightly damp, but the ink was clear.
She threw the stack directly at Harrison's chest.
The papers hit him and fluttered into the air. They rained down over the edge of the stage, landing on the tables and the carpet in the front row.
A man with silver hair sitting at the center table picked up one of the sheets. He adjusted his glasses. His eyes scanned the columns of numbers. He looked up, his expression shifting from confusion to sharp interest.
"Offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands," Chloe said loudly. "Wire transfers routed through shell companies. All bearing your signature, Victoria. And the final destination?"
Harrison lunged forward. "I will sue you for everything you have! These are forged financial documents!"
"The final destination," Chloe continued, ignoring him completely, "was Serena's personal account."
Victoria let out a raw scream. She lunged at Chloe, her hands reaching for the remaining papers in Chloe's hand.
Chloe shifted her weight to her back foot. She twisted her torso. Victoria flew past her, stumbling awkwardly in her high heels and crashing into Harrison.
"That is why you needed me dead," Chloe said. "Dead girls do not ask for audits."
The flash of a camera cut through the dim lighting. Then another.
Several guests from media conglomerates had pulled out their phones. The red recording lights blinked steadily.
"Put those away!" Harrison shouted. He waved his arms at the crowd. "This is a private event! Security, confiscate those phones!"
The room descended into chaos. Guests pushed away from the tables. Alfred and his men tried to form a barricade around the stage, but the crowd was too dense.
Serena crawled across the floor and grabbed Harrison's pant leg. She hid her face against his knee, shaking violently.
Chloe walked to the edge of the stage. She looked down at Serena.
"That custom gown," Chloe said, her voice cutting through the noise. "Paid for with stolen money."
Serena flinched. She crossed her arms over her chest, clutching the white silk as if trying to hide it.
Chloe looked out at the sea of recording phones.
"You cannot confiscate the internet, Harrison," Chloe said. She pulled her own phone from her pocket. The screen was cracked but functional. "Every document, every recording of Victoria discussing the transfers, automatically synced to a secure cloud server the moment I stepped into this building."
Harrison stopped moving. The color drained from his face. The aggressive posture collapsed. He stared at the cracked phone in Chloe's hand.
"This is just the interest," Chloe said.
She turned and walked toward the side stairs.
Alfred stepped into her path, his hand reaching for his radio.
Before he could touch her, the heavy ballroom doors opened again. Four uniformed NYPD officers walked in, their hands resting on their utility belts.
"We received a call about an assault and financial fraud," the lead officer said, his voice booming over the crowd.
Chloe walked past Alfred. She did not look back at the stage.
