The waiter took Arthur’s card and hurried back toward the terminal.
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Honestly, the staff here is getting so incompetent. Father, you should speak to the board of directors. We pay eighty thousand a year in membership dues; we shouldn’t have to suffer through broken card readers.”
The server reappeared, accompanied this time by the head manager of the club. The manager’s face was pale, his posture rigid.
“Mr. Arthur Vance?” the manager said quietly, leaning down to speak in a hushed tone. “I’m afraid your card has also been declined. The transaction status states ‘Revoked by Corporate Administrator.’”
The color drained from Arthur’s face. “That’s impossible. That’s an unlimited corporate credit facility backed by Apex Capital!”
“I am only reading what the merchant system displays, Mr. Vance,” the manager said, his tone cooling significantly. “Furthermore, our automated accounting system just received an urgent electronic notification from Apex Capital’s legal division. All corporate billing privileges for the Vance Hospitality Group have been permanently suspended pending an emergency judicial audit. That includes your yacht club house account.”
The silence that dropped over the Vance family table was suffocating.
Around them, whispers spread across the veranda like wildfire. The wives of federal judges, hedge fund titans, and legacy industrialists tilted their champagne flutes and watched the scene unfold with venomous amusement.
“Is there… an alternative method of payment, Mr. Vance?” the manager asked, his voice now flat, devoid of its earlier deference. “We cannot permit an open balance of this size to linger.”
Richard scrambled through his wallet, his fingers trembling as he pulled out three different secondary credit cards.
One by one, the manager swiped them.
*Declined.*
*Declined.*
*Expired.*
“This is an outrage!” Eleanor gasped, her face flushing bright red beneath her makeup. “Do you know who we are? We are the Vances! We built the west wing of this clubhouse!”
“Madam,” the manager replied coldly, “you may be the Vances, but right now, you cannot pay for your lunch. If this bill is not settled immediately, I will be forced to contact the local constabulary per club bylaws.”
Arthur stood up, knocked his chair back, and pulled his phone to his ear, his hand shaking with volcanic rage. He dialed the direct number of the CFO of Vance Hospitality.
“Thomas! What the hell is going on with the corporate accounts?” Arthur screamed into the receiver, ignoring the appalled stares of fifty country club patrons. “Every single card just bounced at the yacht club!”
The CFO’s voice came back, crackling through the speaker, ragged and breathless.
“Arthur? My God, Arthur, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since eight this morning! It’s over. It’s all over!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Apex Capital declared a catastrophic default on our revolving debt facility two hours ago! They’ve seized all corporate bank accounts! The federal marshals just served us with an emergency injunction freezing the Chicago hotel construction site, and the sheriff is currently en route to the lake house with an eviction writ! We don’t have access to a single penny!”
Arthur spürte, wie ihm der Boden unter den Füßen weggezogen wurde. „Wer hat die Schulden eingefordert? Apex hat sie drei Jahre lang hinausgezögert! Wer hat den Vollstreckungsbefehl unterschrieben?“
„Die Mehrheitsaktionärin!“, rief Thomas. „Die Eigentümerin von Sterling Horizon Holdings! Sie hat es persönlich im Morgengrauen unterschrieben!“
Arthur umklammerte die Kante des Mahagonigeländers, um nicht abzustürzen. „Wer ist sie? Wie heißt sie?“
