Chapter 5 - The breaking point
The gallery returned to a tense, uneasy hum as Julian escorted Alexander to the central private booth elevated above the main floor. Alexander sat down in a dark leather chair, setting his old wristwatch on the small marble table beside him.
Down on the floor, Celeste was forced to stand near the back perimeter, surrounded by low-tier buyers who were eyeing her like a wounded animal. Her phone buzzed frantically inside her diamond-encrusted clutch.
She pulled it out with trembling fingers. The caller ID showed her father, Richard Harrington.
She answered quickly, backing into a shadowed hallway near the restrooms. "Dad? Dad, something terrible is happening at the gala—"
"Celeste, where are you?!" her father’s voice exploded through the speaker, laced with uncharacteristic panic. "Did you place any bids yet?"
"No, I... a man broke my paddle, Dad. A man named Caldwell!"
There was a long, suffocating silence on the line.
"Caldwell..." her father breathed, his voice hollow. "He's back? It's over, Celeste. It's all over."
"What are you talking about?" Celeste demanded, her arrogance trying desperately to resurface. "We are the Harringtons! We hold thirty percent of the luxury retail market!"
"We held thirty percent," Richard corrected, his tone frantic. "Five minutes ago, our master credit facility was frozen by Caldwell Capital. They called in our forty-year note. If we don't present two hundred million dollars in liquidity by midnight, the court places Harrington Enterprises into immediate receivership!"
Celeste felt her knees buckle. She leaned against the cold marble wall, her extravagant silver gown suddenly feeling like a lead suit.
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"Why?" she choked out. "Why now?"
"Because of the painting," her father whispered. "The centerpiece lot tonight... The Whispering Veil. Celeste, tell me you didn't touch that painting."
