My Celebrity Husband Refused My Emergency C-Section To Save A $5M Streaming Deal — What My Daughter Found On His Phone Destroyed Everything
Grizz Vance-Overton was not a man to be trifled with. Brianna’s anonymous drop of the flash drive at his private downtown club had been a calculated risk, but it paid off immediately. The syndicate leader, a man whose reputation preceded him in every corner of the city, saw the details of Tremaine’s deception.
Eight million dollars. Laundered street capital, gone up in smoke. Not just for streaming production costs, but the blatant attempt to collect on a fraudulent insurance policy for the failed birth stream. A policy that would have paid out whether the stream succeeded or if “unforeseen complications” occurred. Damon had set it up, a monstrous hedge against the life of an unborn child.
Grizz didn’t care about the baby, or my grief, or Tremaine’s celebrity status. He cared about his balance sheet.
The syndicate leader moved swiftly, silently. Tremaine and Damon were at an exclusive, soundproofed recording studio in downtown Atlanta, putting the finishing touches on Tremaine’s new album. The studio, known as “The Vault,” was designed for maximum privacy, a perfect trap.
Grizz arrived with four of his enforcers. Large, silent men, their faces expressionless. They made quick work of the studio’s perimeter security. They locked all the exits from the outside, turning the state-of-the-art facility into an impenetrable cage.
Inside, Tremaine was laying down vocals, Damon overseeing the soundboard, oblivious. The rhythmic bassline throbbed through the thick walls, a stark contrast to the quiet, methodical precision of the men now surrounding the building.
The air inside the studio still hummed with creative energy. Outside, it crackled with an entirely different kind of anticipation. The debt was being called. And the bill was due.
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