Chapter 2
Simon Jones showed up the next day with his team.
Four of them, all in sharp suits, sat across from me on the couch.
"Ms. Sutton, are you sure you want to sell all five properties?" Simon asked, adjusting his glasses.
He held a folder, the list of properties laid out clearly on top.
There was the detached villa at Rosewood Estates, which was a wedding gift from my mom.
There were two top-tier office buildings in the Wall Street District, which my dad had transferred to me before I got married.
There was a storefront shop in the commercial center, also transferred to me before my marriage.
I bought an apartment with a good view of the river when I was single.
All five properties together were worth 180 million dollars.
I replied, "Yes, all of them.
"I have only one requirement. Make it fast. I'm fine with selling for up to 5% less than market value, but everything needs to be wrapped up within a month, and the funds have to go straight to my offshore account."
Simon's assistants exchanged glances.
They probably figured I was in urgent need of money, as if I'd hit rock bottom or was backed into a corner.
But only I knew the truth.
I wasn't short on cash.
I was taking back what was rightfully mine.
Every single one of those properties was set up by my parents for me.
Andrew never spent a dime on them, but he always treated them like his own emergency stash, never thinking twice about it.
He thought those properties would always be there for him.
He thought I would always be there for him.
"Also," I said, sliding a card across the table, "make sure every dollar goes into this account. I need absolute discretion the whole way through."
Simon was a sharp guy.
"Understood," he replied.
*****
Over the next twenty-eight days, I signed many contracts.
One by one, I cleared out every asset that carried the mark of Mrs. Lane, cutting ties completely.
On the day the last payment hit my account, I stood in the empty living room of the villa.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the rose garden at the estate clubhouse.
A month ago, the garden was blanketed in white blooms, and Andrew kissed another woman right there.
I turned and walked out, not looking back.
On my phone, the balance updated, numbers shifting for a second.
There was 1.8 billion dollars.
It was a cold digital number, but it was enough to support my life.
That night, I sat in my newly rented apartment, opened my laptop, and pulled up the shareholding structure of Lane & Sutton Holdings.
The company took our surnames.
The day he picked that name, he held my hand and said, "This is our future."
How ironic.
He had probably forgotten saying that.
He thought I was a mere jewelry designer, busy with gemstones and sketches all day, totally clueless about the capital market.
What he didn't know was that my dad, Benjamin Sutton, was one of the top three venture capitalists in this city.
Instead of fairy tales, I grew up hearing about market trends and merger deals at the dinner table.
I only hid all my sharpness and stayed quietly in his shadow, all because I loved him.
But that was over now.
I picked up my phone and dialed a number.
I said, "Michael, it's me, Claire. I need your help with something.
"I want to buy shares of Lane & Sutton Holdings. Use twelve different institutions, twelve separate accounts, and start buying in batches.
"No hurry. Let's take it slow.
"I've got all the time in the world."
*****
It took a year to buy those shares.
Twelve investment firms and twelve separate accounts, like twelve hidden currents, all quietly flowed in the same direction.
Back then, Lane & Sutton Holdings' stock price was steady, with lots of shares changing hands every day. Nobody paid attention to those small, scattered purchases made at different times and through different brokers.
Over that year, I did three things.
First, I acquired shares.
Second, I developed my small jewelry studio and won the Malinine Fashion Week Gold Award.
Third, I learned not to wake up in the middle of the night thinking about Andrew.
Over that year, news about him and Rose kept popping up now and then.
The news read: [Rising star in the business circle, Andrew Lane, attends the charity gala with his wife, Rose Simmons, by his side.
[The heiress of the Lane family is born. Andrew is overjoyed.
[Rose arrives wearing a million-dollar piece of jewelry, radiating luxury and class.]
Every time, I kept scrolling after glancing at the headlines.
I didn't bother to click.
I didn't need to.
All I needed to do was keep my eyes on that number.
The percent of the shares rose from 3%, to 8%, to 15%, and to 23%.
Today, it reached 34.7%.
I was now the largest individual shareholder of Lane & Sutton Holdings.
It surpassed Andrew's own 29% stake.
Of course, the shares were spread across twelve institutions, none of them crossing the disclosure threshold.
No one knew they were all owned by the same person.
No one realized that the true owner of Lane & Sutton Holdings had quietly changed hands.
The call from the bank today told me everything I needed to know.
The moment I'd been waiting for had finally arrived.
Lane & Sutton Holdings was about to run out of cash.
*****
Ten minutes after the bank call, Andrew called me.
I'd had his number blocked for a year.
But he'd switched to a new one.
I stared at the unknown number flashing on my screen, but I didn't pick up.
Andrew kept dialing, one after another.
On the fifth try, a text came through right after. [Claire, I know you hate me. But about the properties, can you give me a chance to explain? Let's meet for once, please.]
I flipped my phone over, with the screen facing down.
Without missing a beat, I kept sketching my designs.
*****
An hour later, Sophie called.
"Claire, Andrew came looking for me. He said he can't reach you, so he asked me to pass on a message. He says the company's in trouble, and he's desperate for you to meet him," she said.
"You turned him down?" I asked.
"Of course! I gave him a piece of my mind for twenty minutes. But he's thick-skinned. I'm letting you know in case he starts pestering you."
"Got it."
"Claire," Sophie said, pausing, "is he really at the end of his rope?"
I didn't say a word.
"Serves him right," Sophie said, her voice sharp. "Let him die."
After hanging up, I turned on the financial news channel.
On the screen, Lane & Sutton Holdings' stock had been sliding for three days straight.
One of the investment rating agencies had downgraded it from "buy" to "hold."
On the financial forums, people were already talking about Lane & Sutton Holdings' cash flow problems.
I closed the tab.
There was no rush.
He hadn't reached the point where it really hurt yet.