Nil has one version of the following story, while your memory has another.
Your memory is of an ornate parlor, staffed by a few coloreds and young strapping men. Cartwright had slipped into his old business as a banker and financeer. The passing trouble is that Prince François de Lozanne, an exceptionally sexual Daeva Crone captivated by the occult, despised Cartwright. You felt torn in loyalty between your longtime employer versus a covenant mate. Cartwright had summoned you and a few other vampires for a war council. The other two wondered what had kept him. Suddenly, you were set upon by the hounds of de Lozanne's court. You three fought bravely, but you were put into torpor.
The story your friend tells, who lingered at the de Lozanne Court, is different. You indeed were in that parlor. And the hounds had come to offer a summons for Cartwright to submit to the Prince some gift. They found you, in torpor, a stake having been driven from the back of the chair in which you sat through your heart.
To this day, you still aren't quite sure what is the truth and what is the lie. From then on, though, one thing was for certain: Cartwright hated to share power, thought he alone could wield it, and sought it by any means necessary.