Chapter 4 - The Cloud and the Code
My mother brought a high-end encrypted tablet to my hospital room the following morning. Though my vision was still obscured by thick protective lenses and bandages, my mother described every frame of the video footage as she downloaded it from my cloud account.
"The resolution is crystal clear, Maya," Eleanor said, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the glass screen. "Audio is crisp. It catches Vivian’s statement at timestamp 11:42 AM: 'A filthy, penniless woman like you will never belong in this family.' It clearly shows her raising the spray bottle. It shows Daniel entering the frame at 11:43 AM. He doesn't disarm her. He pins your arms behind your back while she discharges the aerosol a second time."
My father stood by the window, on his secure satellite phone. He wasn't talking to the police. He was talking to Marcus Vance, the managing partner at Hartwell Capital.
"Marcus," my father said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Review the Cross Hospitality credit agreement. Section 4, clause B regarding material risk and moral turpitude of primary guarantors. Pull up the ten-million-dollar liquidity injection scheduled for Friday."
I heard Marcus’s faint voice over the speaker. "Mr. Hart, Arthur Cross has been calling our office all morning. He’s desperate for that tranche. Their debt-to-equity ratio is in the red. If we don't fund that tranche by Friday at 5:00 PM, their primary lenders in New York will trigger a default notice."
"Hold the tranche," my father commanded. "Do not decline it yet. Tell Arthur Cross that the investment committee requires a personal meeting with him and his executive board on Friday afternoon at 4:30 PM to review 'unexpected compliance issues.'"
"Understood, Mr. Hart. Shall I inform Daniel Cross as well?"
My father looked at me, his eyes cold and sharp. "Include Daniel. He is listed as the chief operating officer. Tell them the chairman of Hartwell Capital will be attending the meeting personally."
He ended the call and walked over to my bedside.
"Your corneas will heal, Maya," my father said softly, placing his hand over mine. "Dr. Aris says the chemical burn is superficial enough that full vision will return in ten days with proper treatment. But the Cross family business will not recover."
"Dad," I said, leaning up against the pillows. "I want Daniel to go through with his investor dinner tonight. I want him to feel like he has successfully secured the future of his company."
My mother smiled—a cold, terrifying expression. "He’s dining at the Grandview Club tonight with two junior associates from Hartwell. They don't know who you are either, Maya. They think Daniel is just another ambitious client."
"Let him boast," I said, my voice hardening. "Let him tell them how he handled his 'hysterical' wife. Let the evidence accumulate."
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My mother pulled out her cell phone and opened an audio recording app connected to the tap she had placed on the junior associates' corporate lines.
"We are going to record every word he says tonight," Eleanor said. "By Friday, Daniel Cross won't just be facing divorce; he will be facing aggravated felony assault, conspiracy, and civil destruction."
