Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Harrington
The news broke thirty-six hours later.
What started as a quiet rumor in the financial districts of the state quickly erupted into a full-scale corporate catastrophe for Harrington Global. By Tuesday morning, financial news outlets were reporting a sudden, unexplained logistics collapse at Harrington's primary manufacturing facilities in Ohio and Texas.
Without Vance Logistics trucks to transport their finished heavy equipment, the loading docks at Harrington plants were completely backlogged within forty-eight hours. Shipments to major overseas buyers were missed, triggering massive financial penalties that sent shockwaves through their board of directors.
At 2:00 PM on Wednesday, Marcus called me into his office at the Vance Holdings headquarters in downtown Bellmont.
"They're unraveling faster than I anticipated," Marcus said, spinning his computer monitor around so I could see the live stock ticker for Harrington Global. The red line was diving off a cliff, dropping twenty-eight percent in a single trading session. "Charles tried to secure emergency freight services from secondary logistics firms in Chicago, but once word got out that Vance Holdings had pulled our contract, no one wanted to touch them. The industry knows when we pull out of a company, it means the ship is sinking."
I sat down slowly, resting my left arm against the soft cushion of the leather armchair. The pain in my rib had subsided into a dull, persistent ache, but the satisfaction in my chest was sharp and clear.
"What about the medical report?" I asked.
"Filed with the district attorney's office this morning," Marcus replied with a cold, vicious smile. "Charles Harrington has been officially served with a summons for felony assault resulting in bodily harm. The press hasn't picked up on the police report yet, but they will by tomorrow morning."
Right on cue, the private line on Marcus's desk began to ring.
Marcus glanced at the caller ID, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "It's Victoria Harrington."
He pressed the speakerphone button.
"Marcus! Marcus, is that you?!" Victoria’s usually pristine, condescending tone was completely replaced by a frantic, breathless shriek. "Where is Elena?! Why isn't she answering her phone?! Have you seen what is happening to our stock?!"
Marcus adjusted his cuffs, speaking with practiced corporate serenity. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Harrington. Elena is currently resting under medical supervision for injuries sustained at your charity gala. I suggest you refrain from contacting her directly, as the temporary restraining order is now officially in effect."
"A restraining order?!" Victoria gasped, sounding as if she were choking on her own tongue. "Are you people insane?! Charles is facing criminal charges! The police came to our country club this morning to serve him papers! Do you have any idea what this is doing to our social standing?! Everyone is talking!"
"I imagine they are, Mrs. Harrington," I spoke up, leaning toward the speakerphone. "Particularly about your family's 'country-trash aesthetic.'"
The line went completely dead silent for three agonizing seconds.
"Elena?" Victoria's voice dropped into a desperate, trembling register. "Elena, my dear child... please, listen to me. This has all been a terrible, tragic misunderstanding! I didn't mean anything by my comments about the pie! It was just a silly joke! You know how fond I am of you!"
"Fond of me?" I laughed softly. "You spent three years treating me like a stray dog your son brought home from a shelter, Victoria. You humiliated my mother in front of a room full of people who aren't half as decent as she is."
"I'll apologize!" Victoria cried out, completely abandoning any remaining shred of her aristocratic pride. "I will host a press conference! I will publicly apologize to your mother on national news! Just tell your brother to reinstate the freight contracts! Charles's board is holding an emergency vote at five o'clock to strip him of his chairmanship!"
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"Tell Charles to save his speeches for the grand jury, Victoria," I said coldly. "And tell Preston his personal belongings have been packed into cardboard boxes and dropped off at your gate."
Marcus reached over and disconnected the call.
