I straightened my posture, a calm determination washing over me as my finger pressed down on the screen. The siren cut through the air like a knife, drawing the attention of every guest on the yacht. The Bank’s Chief Legal Officer stepped onto the deck, causing a ripple of panic among the partygoers.
“Madam President,” she announced, her voice carrying over the tentative whispers that had begun to circulate, “the foreclosure papers are ready for your signature.”
Gasps erupted around me. The mood shifted from haughty amusement to fraught confusion and disbelief. Victoria’s smug demeanor crumbled, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. Richard’s cigar slipped from his fingers, landing with a soft hiss against the polished deck.
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