I can't access my deposit to go buy something else today.
In Melbourne, a vacant lot stands where Australia's tallest tower was meant to rise — a 365-metre monument to urban ambition that instead became a monument to the gap between promise and possibility. Some 540 buyers, who collectively entrusted $650 million in deposits to a project called STH BNK, now find themselves bound by contracts they cannot exit and a future they cannot foresee. The story is not merely one of a stalled skyscraper, but of how the legal architecture surrounding grand developments can leave ordinary people bearing the full weight of extraordinary risk.
- Six hundred and fifty million dollars in life savings sits frozen in trust accounts while a vacant Melbourne lot waits for a buyer who may never build what was promised.
- Buyers were still being encouraged to refer friends and family to the project at a time when the development entity was, according to administrators, already insolvent — a timeline that has raised serious questions about transparency.
- The project's own legal structure — a decade-long sunset clause, fixed-price contracts, and a special purpose vehicle — was individually lawful yet collectively left purchasers with no exit and no recourse when the finances collapsed.
- A Malaysian bank's receivers are now selling the site internationally, and whether a new owner builds the tower, scraps it, or returns deposits remains entirely unresolved.
- Victoria has no legislated cap on sunset clause lengths, meaning buyers like Madelyn McGhie face the prospect of waiting seven more years with no guaranteed outcome while the property market moves on without them.
On a winter morning in Melbourne, Madelyn McGhie stood before a vacant lot bearing a 'For Sale' sign — the ground where Australia's tallest building was supposed to rise. Her $130,000 deposit, placed in 2023, remained locked in a trust account alongside the funds of 539 other buyers. Together, they held $650 million in frozen capital, waiting on a project that experts were calling a legal stalemate.
The STH BNK tower had launched in 2022 with extraordinary ambition: a twisting 365-metre residential skyscraper, a companion Four Seasons hotel, and a cultural space designed with Paris's Centre Pompidou. A global design competition had shaped its distinctive form, and the marketing worked — the project reported an 80 per cent sale rate, with apartments ranging from $534,000 to $38 million. Buyers were promised a 'community among the clouds.'
The same elaborate design that drove sales made the building ruinously expensive to construct. As material costs surged across the sector, construction estimates reached $2 billion. The appointed builder, Multiplex, departed more than two years ago. Contracts contained a 10-year sunset clause, meaning buyers could not rescind for a decade — while developers could not cancel even if the project became financially unviable. As one industry leader put it simply: 'It's a stalemate.'
What deepened the concern was the sequence of events. In October 2023 and again in March 2024, BEULAH promoted a referral program offering existing buyers a discount for bringing in new purchasers. According to administrator findings, the development entity had been insolvent since at least January 2024. When asked whether the referral campaign was an attempt to secure financing during financial distress, BEULAH declined to comment beyond a statement about working toward 'a positive outcome.'
Buyers were given little indication of the trouble. John Mibus, who deposited $71,000 in early 2023, was told in August 2024 by a salesperson that delays were due to demolition approvals and there was 'nothing to worry about financially.' When voluntary administration was eventually announced in February 2025, BEULAH described it as 'isolated to a management entity' — without clearly disclosing that this entity was the one responsible for delivering the project itself.
The site's land-holding entity subsequently defaulted on a loan to Malaysian bank Maybank, triggering the appointment of receivers and an international sale process that closed in mid-June 2026. A new owner could choose to honour existing contracts and build the tower, or return deposits with interest and pursue a different development entirely. Contract law expert Vivi Tan noted that while each element of the arrangement was individually legal, their combination during insolvency placed all downside risk squarely on buyers. Victoria, unlike some other states, has no legislated limit on sunset clause lengths.
For McGhie, standing outside the empty lot, the situation distilled into something plainly unjust: money locked away for potentially seven more years, property prices rising, and her window to enter the market quietly closing. 'If you don't think you can deliver on something that you're actively selling,' she said, 'it should be law that you refund any deposits.' The $650 million will continue to sit in trust, earning interest, while the fate of Australia's would-be tallest building rests with whoever wins the auction.
On a winter morning in Melbourne, Madelyn McGhie stood outside a vacant lot with a "For Sale" sign bolted to its fence. The ground where Australia's tallest building was supposed to rise—a twisting 365-metre tower that would have been a vertical city unto itself—remained empty. Her $130,000 deposit, placed in 2023 with her partner, sat locked in a trust account. So did the deposits of 539 other buyers. Together, they held $650 million in frozen capital, waiting for a project that had promised to transform the city's skyline but instead had stalled into what experts were calling a legal stalemate.
The STH BNK project had arrived in Melbourne with considerable fanfare. In April 2022, the developer BEULAH unveiled plans for what would have been the country's tallest residential building, complete with a Four Seasons hotel in a companion tower and a cultural space designed in collaboration with Paris's Centre Pompidou. A global design competition had produced the building's distinctive twisting form, which won government planning approval in 2020. The marketing campaign worked. Within months, the project reported an 80 per cent sale rate. Apartments ranged from $534,000 to $38 million for a sub-penthouse unit. Buyers were sold on the idea of a "community among the clouds"—a place where residents could access metropolitan amenities without leaving their building.
But the project was vulnerable in ways that became apparent only after the contracts were signed. The elaborate design that had powered the marketing campaign also made the building exceptionally expensive to construct. As material costs surged across the construction sector and productivity issues mounted, the gap between what buyers had paid and what the building would actually cost to build widened into a chasm. By 2024, estimates for construction had reached $2 billion. The builder initially appointed to the project, Multiplex, departed more than two years ago. The contracts themselves contained a 10-year sunset clause—a provision that meant buyers could not rescind their agreements for a decade from purchase, while developers could not renegotiate or cancel them even if the project became financially unfeasible. Max Shifman, who headed the Urban Development Institute of Australia during this period, described it plainly: "It's a stalemate."
What made the situation more troubling was the timeline of events. In October 2023, while the project's development entity was already facing significant cashflow problems, BEULAH promoted a referral program to existing buyers. The program offered a 2 per cent discount on settlement costs for anyone who referred friends or family to purchase an apartment. The emails were sent again in March 2024. By that time, according to court documents and administrator findings, the development entity had been insolvent since at least January 2024. Consultants claiming to be owed hundreds of thousands of dollars had begun wind-up proceedings in court. One of the entity's directors later told administrators that trouble securing construction financing meant the company couldn't pay debts when they came due. When asked directly about the referral program, BEULAH declined to be interviewed and did not answer whether it was an attempt to boost sales to secure financing. The company issued only a statement saying it remained "focused on working with stakeholders to deliver a positive outcome."
Buyers were kept largely in the dark. John Mibus, who placed a $71,000 deposit in February 2023, was initially told the building would be completed in 2028. When he contacted the sales team in August 2024 after seeing social media posts suggesting financial trouble, a salesperson told him the delay was due to demolition approvals and there was "nothing to worry about financially." The City of Melbourne had issued a first round of approvals in July 2024, but subsequent approvals were never progressed. In February 2025, purchasers received an email stating that one company involved in the project had entered voluntary administration. The email assured them this was "isolated to a management entity" and did not affect the project's delivery. What BEULAH did not clearly explain was that this entity was the one tasked with project development—the core of the operation. After two months in administration, it exited when creditors agreed to a proposal that relied on selling the project site to repay debts.
That sale process itself became complicated when the project's land-holding entity defaulted on a loan to Malaysian bank Maybank. Receivers were appointed, and an international expression of interest process for the site closed in mid-June 2026. A new owner could choose to enforce the existing contracts and build the tower, or could return the deposits with accrued interest and pursue a different development. For the 540 buyers, the outcome remained entirely uncertain. Vivi Tan, a contract law expert at RMIT University, observed that while each individual element of the arrangement—the trust account, the fixed-price contracts, the sunset clause, the special purpose vehicle structure—was individually lawful, their combination in a case involving insolvency left purchasers bearing all the downside risk. Victoria has no legislated limit on the length of sunset clauses, unlike some other Australian states that have moved to tighten such rules in recent years.
McGhie, standing outside the vacant lot, articulated what many buyers felt: the fundamental unfairness of having money locked away for potentially seven more years while property prices continued to rise and her window to enter the market narrowed. "If you don't think you can deliver on something that you're actively selling, it should be law that you refund any deposits," she said. The $650 million in trust accounts would sit there, earning interest that some buyers believed might benefit the developer, while the future of Australia's would-be tallest building remained in the hands of whoever purchased the site at auction.
Citas Notables
It's a stalemate. Buyers have bought into contracts with a 10-year sunset date, but developers are also hamstrung because they can't go back and renegotiate or cancel the contracts in circumstances where it's no longer feasible.— Max Shifman, former head of the Urban Development Institute of Australia
When you put together the trust account, the fixed price contracts, the sunset clause, and the special purpose vehicle structure in a case involving insolvency, the purchasers end up bearing the brunt of the downsides.— Vivi Tan, contract law expert at RMIT University
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Why did the developer keep selling apartments when they knew the project was in trouble?
The referral program was launched in October 2023, and by then the development entity was already facing serious cashflow problems. But the company structure—using separate entities for different functions—meant the sales team may not have had full visibility into the financial distress. Or they did, and they were trying to hit sales targets to secure financing. Either way, it's predatory to ask existing buyers to refer friends when you're already insolvent.
What's the 10-year sunset clause, and why does it matter so much?
It's a contract term that says buyers can't back out for 10 years from purchase. But it also means developers can't cancel or renegotiate the contracts, even if the project becomes impossible to build profitably. So you have 540 people locked in, and the developer locked in, with no legal way out. That's the stalemate.
Could the buyers have known something was wrong?
Some did sense it. John Mibus asked the sales team directly in August 2024 about financial trouble he'd read about online. They told him there was nothing to worry about. But the company never sent regular updates, never explained the delays clearly. Buyers were kept in the fog.
What happens to the money sitting in the trust account?
It earns interest. Some buyers believe BEULAH might benefit from that interest if the contracts eventually settle. The money is protected—it won't disappear—but it's also not accessible to the buyers. They can't use it to buy something else while they wait.
Is there any way out for these buyers?
A receiver is selling the site internationally. A new owner could enforce the contracts and build the tower, which would be good for buyers. Or they could return the deposits with interest and develop something else entirely. The buyers have no control over which path is chosen.