One of them, Northshore Ventures, was largely unknown outside financial circles.
“Have Northshore contact him.”
Ryan looked at me.
“You want to invest?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“I want him to believe we might.”
The offer was simple.
Northshore would express interest in placing forty million dollars into Blake’s project.
But Bradford Development would first have to provide eight million dollars in matching funds to prove liquidity.
Ryan understood immediately.
“He doesn’t have eight million.”
“No.”
“So he’ll have to borrow it.”
“Exactly.”
Ryan closed the folder.
“And if he’s desperate enough…”
“He’ll borrow from anyone.”
The trap was set.
Two days later, Margaret called me.
Her voice was furious.
“You shameless girl. You investigated us?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Don’t play stupid. You mentioned our mortgage. You mentioned my private debt.”
I looked through the windows of my office.
“Margaret, perhaps you shouldn’t call women trash when your lifestyle is being held together by borrowed money.”
“You think you’re clever?”
“I think you’re broke.”
She gasped.
“You poisonous little snake.”
“No,” I replied. “I’m simply someone who stopped allowing you to mistake kindness for weakness.”
I hung up.
That afternoon, Blake met with Northshore Ventures.
Through an internal conference feed, I watched him sit across from Northshore’s managing director, Andrew Pierce.
Blake looked polished.
But desperate.
Andrew slid a proposal across the table.
“We’re prepared to invest forty million dollars.”
Blake nearly smiled.
“Excellent.”
“There is one condition.”
His expression tightened.
“We require eight million dollars in matching liquidity deposited into escrow.”
Blake froze.
“Eight million?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
Andrew shrugged.
“Then we can pursue another project.”
Blake immediately changed.
“No. No, that won’t be necessary.”
He forced a smile.
“Give me seventy-two hours.”
When the call ended, I looked at Ryan.
“He’ll find the money.”
“From where?”
“Everywhere.”
He did.
Blake sold vehicles owned by the company.
He borrowed from relatives.
Margaret refinanced what little equity remained in the house.
And then they made their most dangerous decision.
They borrowed heavily from a private lender named Vincent Russo, a man with a reputation for collecting debts aggressively.
Within three days, Blake scraped together the eight million dollars.
He wired it into the escrow account.
Then he announced a celebration gala.
Before that happened, however, I encountered the Bradfords unexpectedly at a luxury boutique in La Jolla.
I was inside a private fitting room when Margaret’s voice echoed across the store.
“Bring me another one. My future daughter-in-law doesn’t use display merchandise.”
I stepped out.
Blake stood beside her.
On his arm was a young woman named Madison, dressed in expensive-looking clothing and carrying an obviously counterfeit designer bag.
Margaret saw me first.
Her lips curled.
“Well, look who it is.”
Blake turned.
His eyes moved over my tailored dress, my jewelry, and the private shopping suite behind me.
He looked confused.
Then his ego returned.
“What are you doing here?”
“Shopping.”
Madison laughed.
“You?”
Margaret sneered.
“Probably taking photos before security realizes she can’t afford anything.”
The boutique manager approached.
Margaret pointed toward me.
“This woman is bothering us. Remove her.”
The manager looked horrified.
“Mrs. Bradford…”
Then he turned toward me and bowed his head politely.
“Ms. Montgomery, I apologize. I didn’t realize these guests were disturbing you.”
Silence.
Blake stared at him.
“What did you call her?”
“Ms. Montgomery.”
I smiled.
“Please wrap the handbag Mrs. Bradford wanted.”
Margaret’s eyes widened.
“And send the entire seasonal collection to my house.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I handed him my black card.
Blake stared at it.
His face changed.
I looked at Madison’s bag.
“And you may want to be careful bringing counterfeit merchandise into flagship boutiques.”
Madison immediately hid it behind her.
Blake stepped toward me.
“Who are you?”
I smiled.
“The woman you charged three thousand dollars in rent.”
Security escorted them out after Margaret began shouting.
But even then, Blake couldn’t accept the truth.
His ego simply created another explanation.
That night, he sent me an invitation to his gala.
A voice message followed.
“You should come. Tomorrow I’m signing the biggest deal of my life. Forty million dollars. Then maybe you’ll understand what you threw away.”
I listened twice.
Then replied:
“I’ll be there.”
The gala was held at a luxury hotel in Coronado.
Hundreds of guests attended.
Margaret wore diamonds she didn’t own outright.
Blake wore a white tuxedo.
Madison clung to his arm.
Near the back stood several men connected to Vincent Russo.
They had come to make sure Blake’s promised investment actually materialized.
At eight o’clock, Blake took the stage.
“Tonight marks the rebirth of Bradford Development!”
Guests applauded.
“We have secured a forty-million-dollar partnership with one of the most powerful investment groups in California.”
He smiled.
“And perhaps tonight, certain people who doubted me will finally understand their mistake.”
Then the ballroom doors opened.
I walked inside.
I wore a deep-red couture gown and an emerald necklace.
Ryan walked behind me.
Andrew Pierce from Northshore walked beside him.
Blake stared.
“What are you doing here?”
I kept walking.
He grabbed the microphone.
“Security, remove her.”
Andrew stepped forward.
“Mr. Bradford.”
Blake stopped.
“Andrew?”
“Yes.”
Blake looked behind him.
“Where is the chairperson from Sterling Crest? You said they were attending.”
Andrew glanced at me.
Then bowed his head slightly.
“She is.”
The ballroom fell silent.
Blake looked from him to me.
“No.”
Ryan stepped forward.
“Evelyn Montgomery is chairwoman and controlling shareholder of Sterling Crest Holdings. Sterling Crest owns Northshore Ventures.”
Blake’s face lost all color.
I walked up the steps to the stage.
“You wanted to meet the person behind your investment.”
He stared at me.
“You?”
“Yes.”
Margaret stood so quickly that her chair fell over.
“This is impossible.”
I turned toward her.
“You told me I was fortunate to enter your family because my bloodline had never seen wealth.”
She said nothing.
Blake grabbed my arm.
“You set me up.”
I pulled away.
“No. I gave your company an investment condition. You chose how to meet it.”
“The eight million—”
“Is currently frozen pending compliance review.”
His eyes widened.
“What?”
“Some of the funds came from questionable private sources. The banks flagged the transaction.”
Blake began shaking.
“You can’t freeze it.”
