Chapter 15: The New Boardroom
By Monday morning, the fallout from Victoria’s disastrous tabloid stunt had completely imploded what little remained of her high-society standing.
Instead of generating sympathy, her public meltdown at the Hamptons gates was picked up by national news outlets as a cautionary tale of entitled corporate elites weaponizing the media against their own children—and failing miserably. The video of Eleanor shutting her down with a single sentence became a viral sensation on TikTok and Twitter, dubbed by internet commentators as “The Ultimate Grandma Drop.”
I sat at the polished mahogany table on the fortieth floor of Montgomery Real Estate’s Manhattan headquarters.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't sitting in the small, cramped cubicle down the hall where I used to handle minor property tax disputes. I sat at the absolute head of the table in the executive boardroom, wearing a tailored charcoal pantsuit, with Michael Levin to my right and a row of senior regional directors seated along both sides.
"Good morning, everyone," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the high-tech conference room.
The room of twenty seasoned executives—people who had spent years nodding politely to my mother while quietly undermining my proposals—sat in absolute, respectful silence. They had watched the trust transfer documents go through on Friday; they knew who held the voting shares now.
"As the newly appointed primary co-trustee of the Montgomery Capital Fund," I began, opening the thick leather-bound folio in front of me, "we are going to restructure our commercial asset management strategy starting today. For too long, this firm has prioritized vanity projects, speculative luxury developments, and politically motivated bailouts of failing family ventures."
I looked directly at Marcus Vance—no relation to Sarah, but a long-standing senior vice president who had been one of Victoria’s primary enablers.
"Effective immediately, all non-performing commercial assets will be audited for market viability," I continued, sliding a spreadsheet toward him. "If a property is being subsidized purely to maintain social status rather than generate sustainable community yield, it will be liquidated or converted into affordable mixed-use zoning. Mr. Vance, I want your team's preliminary report on the midtown retail plazas on my desk by Wednesday at noon."
Marcus swallowed hard, his face turning pale. He opened his mouth to object, started to say something, caught the cold, unwavering look in my eyes, and simply closed his folder.
"Yes, Miss Montgomery," Marcus murmured, lowering his head. "The report will be on your desk."
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Michael Levin leaned over slightly, whispering into my ear with a faint, approving smile. "Your grandmother would be very proud. You're running this room better than Victoria ever did in twenty years."
"I'm not running it like Victoria, Michael," I replied quietly, turning the page of my brief. "I'm running it like someone who actually built it."
