Julian forced an awkward, dismissive laugh, though his eyes darted nervously toward the blue binder in Eleanor’s hand. "Mom, you're making a scene. Let's take this to the corporate office. Why are you airing family business in a public restaurant?"
"Because, Julian, your greed has never been a private matter," Eleanor stated coldly. She turned to face her younger son, her eyes burning with maternal disappointment mixed with unyielding resolve. "You assumed that because I stepped back from day-to-day operations, my mind had grown dull. You assumed that when the time came, the entire Sterling-Vance conglomerate—every hotel, every restaurant, every real estate holding—would simply fall into your lap like ripe fruit."
"We are your family!" Victoria cried out, tears of frustration finally spilling over her cheeks, ruining her expensive makeup. "How can you humiliate us like this over a spilled glass of wine?!"
"This isn't about a glass of wine, Victoria," Eleanor said, her voice ringing out with absolute clarity. "The wine is merely the catalyst that stripped away your polite veneer. This is about accountability. This is about embezzlement, corporate fraud, and the systematic draining of our charitable trust funds to finance your lavish, empty lifestyle."
Julian’s face drained of all color. He took a staggering step forward, raising a hand in protest. "That's... that's a lie! Those accounts were approved under discretionary executive powers!"
"Discretionary powers do not include purchasing three beachfront villas in the Bahamas under shell corporations, Julian," Eleanor retorted sharply, opening the blue binder to reveal crisp, undeniable paper trails stamped with bank seals and forensic accountant signatures. "My signature was forged on the transfer documents last November. Did you truly believe my legal team wouldn't audit the subsidiary accounts?"