Chapter 5 - The First Domino
The drive from Lake Forest to downtown Chicago was usually a forty-minute cruise down the Edens Expressway. Grant Mercer completed it in twenty-two minutes, running two red lights and clipping a curb as he whipped into the underground garage at 300 North Wacker Drive.
His hands were slick with sweat against the steering wheel. The papers from Evelyn’s vanity sat crumpled on the passenger seat beside him.
*She’s bluffing,* he repeated to himself like a desperate mantra. *She’s throwing a tantrum because I embarrassed her. She doesn't have the stomach for a real fight. She’s just a soft, pampered girl.*
When the elevator doors parted on the forty-second floor—the executive headquarters of Mercer Alder—the silence was deafening.
There was no bustling reception. The administrative assistants were standing huddled in corners, whispering behind their tablets. Two burly men in charcoal suits with earpieces stood stationed directly outside the boardroom double doors.
Grant marched past the reception desk, his jaw locked. “What is this? Who authorized security on this floor?”
The receptionist, a young woman named Clara whom Grant had hired three months ago, looked at him with sheer terror and shrank back into her chair.
Grant lunged toward the boardroom, but the two security guards stepped smoothly into his path, blocking the doors.
“Out of my way,” Grant snarled, his six-foot-three frame looming over them. “I am Grant Mercer. I own this company.”
“Not according to Delaware corporate registry as of eight-thirty this morning, sir,” the guard on the left replied, his tone entirely professional, entirely impassive.
Before Grant could strike the man, the boardroom door opened from within, and Arthur Pendleton, the pale, sweating CFO, stumbled out. Behind him came Lila Warren, her makeup flawless, but her eyes darting like a trapped animal’s.
“Grant!” Lila hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him into an empty conference room down the hall. Arthur hurried in behind them, locking the glass door.
“What is happening?” Grant demanded, slamming his fist onto the glass table. “Arthur, explain this circus before I fire you!”
“You can’t fire me, Grant!” Arthur squeaked, his voice cracking. “I don't report to you anymore! St. Claire Holdings executed an emergency debt-to-equity conversion two hours ago! They called twenty million dollars in distressed notes! Crestview Bank honored the acceleration clause because of a material breach in the morality covenant!”
Grant stared at him, his face turning an ash-gray color. “What are you talking about? What morality covenant? What debt?”
“The original restructuring note!” Arthur cried, waving a ream of financial printouts. “Four years ago! When you bought out the Midwest transit contracts! You didn't secure private capital from a venture group, Grant! You borrowed it from St. Claire Holdings! St. Claire is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Holloway-Aldridge Trust!”
The room seemed to spin on its axis. Grant felt a cold rush of nausea pool in the pit of his stomach.
“Holloway…” Grant whispered, the word tasting like venom. “Evelyn’s grandmother.”
“Evelyn *is* the trust, you idiot!” Lila suddenly screamed at him, her manicured facade finally cracking into raw, vitriolic fury. Her face was flushed red, her eyes bulging. “She isn't just an heir! She’s the sole trustee! She owns the convertible debt, she owns the building lease, and she holds the primary lien on every single truck, warehouse, and server we operate!”
Grant grabbed Lila by the shoulders. “Calm down! We have operating cash! We have the accounts receivable from the autumn shipments! We can challenge the conversion in chancery court!”
Arthur laughed—a wild, hysterical sound. “What operating cash, Grant? Crestview froze all corporate accounts at nine o’clock sharp. They cited an ongoing criminal inquiry into unauthorized disbursements to a shell entity called Apex Logistics!”
Lila froze. Her hands dropped from Grant’s lapels.
The blood drained from her face so fast that for a second, Grant thought she might faint.
“Apex?” Grant repeated, looking between Arthur and Lila. “Why are they looking at Apex? That was an internal advisory structure…”
He stopped.
He looked at Lila.
Lila stepped back, breaking contact with him, her eyes turning from panicked to cold, calculating slate.
“Lila?” Grant asked, a horrific suspicion dawning in his chest. “What did you do with the Apex accounts?”
Before she could answer, the glass door of the conference room clicked open.
Julian Vance stood in the doorway, an impeccably tailored navy coat draped over his arm. Behind him stood two uniformed officers of the Chicago Police Department.
May you like
“Good morning, Grant,” Julian said pleasantly. “I believe you have an appointment with the board of directors. Though, technically speaking, you’ll be attending as an observer.”
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