Chapter 3 - The Corporate Collapse
Within twelve hours of the incident on the yacht, the digital fallout was catastrophic—not for me, but for the Voss family dynasty.
Even though Bianca’s livestream had cut off when her phone hit the deck, three different guests had recorded alternate angles of the champagne splash and Julian’s public declaration. By Sunday morning, the clips had gone viral across TikTok, X, and financial news networks.
Hashtags like #YachtBully and #VanceWife trended globally.
I sat at the marble dining table of our Monaco penthouse overlooking the harbor, sipping black coffee while scrolling through financial statements on my tablet.
Julian walked into the kitchen, holding a fresh espresso cup, leaning against the counter.
“Your father’s legal team has called my office four times this morning,” Julian noted, a faint, amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Arthur Voss is practically in tears. He claims he had nothing to do with his daughter’s atrocious behavior.”
“Arthur knew exactly how Bianca treated people,” I said calmly, swiping to the next spreadsheet. “He funded her lifestyle by squeezing commercial tenants in London. He just never expected her cruelty to accidentally target someone who could push the button on his margin calls.”
“And the margin call has been executed?” Julian asked.
“As of 8:00 AM,” I nodded. “Vance Maritime has officially recalled the thirty-million-dollar development loan on Arthur’s Chelsea properties. Without refinancing, his company goes into receivership by Tuesday afternoon.”
Julian chuckled softly, walking over to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, Elena.”
“You married me, Julian. You’re already past the risk threshold.”
Before Julian could reply, the secure intercom on the wall buzzed.
The estate manager’s voice came through, sounding slightly tense. “Sir, Madam... you have visitors downstairs. It’s Mr. Arthur Voss and his daughter Bianca. They’re demanding entry at the security gate.”
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Julian and I exchanged a single, knowing glance.
“Send them up,” Julian said smoothly. “Let’s see how well Bianca swims without champagne.”
