“Consider it done. And Josephine, I’ll have three board members there who can verify your contract details if needed.”
The gala’s theme, ironically, was “Integrity in Real Estate: Building Trust in Modern Markets.”
Eleanor would be recognized for her gold sponsorship during the ceremony, given three minutes to speak about her contribution to the real estate community.
I pulled up the event contract.
Gold sponsors were bound by a morality clause. Any criminal activity or fraud could result in immediate revocation of sponsorship and a lifetime ban from association events.
“David, make sure the bank fraud investigation file is ready by October 20th. The FBI will have processed the initial report by then.”
“Perfect. Eleanor wants to reveal the truth at the gala.”
I smiled.
“Let’s make sure she gets her wish.”
Over the next three days, my strategic pieces fell into place with precision.
Victoria Sterling called a special board meeting.
“I need three of you at the California gala to verify Josephine Drexler’s contract details if questioned.”
All three board members, including the CFO of a Fortune 100 company, volunteered immediately.
“Josephine deserves recognition for her true worth,” Victoria told them. “We’re not just announcing a consultant. We’re introducing the architect of Meridian’s next decade of growth.”
James Morrison from Wells Fargo sent a formal affidavit.
We can confirm attempted fraud in the amount of $500,000 using property located at 2847 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu. The legitimate owner, Josephine Drexler, through Drexler Consulting LLC, was not involved in this application. Evidence has been submitted to federal authorities.
My real estate broker, horrified that Eleanor had impersonated me, provided a sworn statement.
“Eleanor Drexler has no ownership claim to said property. She obtained the address through misrepresentation to my staff.”
Even Marcus’ business partners started calling David.
“We heard about Eleanor’s behavior. If you need character witnesses regarding Josephine’s professional reputation versus Eleanor’s pattern of deception, we’re available.”
The most surprising ally came from Patricia Worthington, chair of Eleanor’s own charity committee.
“Josephine, I’ve watched Eleanor bully you for years. I have recordings from three committee meetings where she claimed credit for donations you made anonymously. Would those help?”
“Send everything to David,” I said.
By October 17th, I had 15 affidavits, three hours of recorded evidence, and a federal fraud case number.
Eleanor, meanwhile, kept posting on social media about her beach house and the “truth” she’d reveal at the gala.
Marcus finally texted:
“Mom’s lost her mind. She won’t listen to me.”
I didn’t respond.
He’d had 15 years to make her listen.
That time was over.
October 20th arrived with perfect California weather.
The Ritz-Carlton ballroom gleamed with crystal chandeliers and gold accents. Eleanor arrived at 6:00 p.m. in a $30,000 Oscar de la Renta gown, holding court near the entrance.
“The Drexler name means excellence in real estate,” I heard her telling a group of investors. “Wait until you see our newest Malibu acquisition. I’ll be sharing details during my speech tonight.”
I arrived at 6:45 in a simple black Armani dress that Victoria had insisted on buying me.
“Understated power,” she’d said. “Let Eleanor be the peacock.”
The moment Eleanor saw me, her face contorted.
