Chapter 4 - The Aftermath of Glass
By Monday afternoon, the shockwaves of Grant’s professional implosion had fully rippled through his social and business circles.
I spent the morning at a quiet café downtown, working alongside a corporate attorney Chloe had recommended—a sharp, no-nonsense woman named Sarah Sterling who specialized in intellectual property theft and founder disputes. When I laid out the metadata, the drafting files, the uncredited strategy decks, and the text messages from Grant and Leah, Sarah hadn't even blinked. She simply smiled, adjusted her glasses, and said, “Mr. Mercer is about to learn a very expensive lesson in market economics.”
We filed a formal cease-and-desist notice prohibiting Grant Mercer and Northline House LLC from utilizing, distributing, or presenting any unassigned brand architecture, market positioning copy, or consumer narrative drafted by Avery Holt, effective immediately. We also copied Leah Chen on the legal correspondence.
By two o'clock, my phone had begun vibrating incessantly.
First came the texts from mutual acquaintances—people who had laughed at Grant’s Christmas party joke, suddenly texting to check in, asking if I was “okay” or what had happened with Northline House. I ignored every single one of them. People who laugh when someone calls you inferior don't deserve the courtesy of an explanation.
Then came the calls from Grant.
Blocked.
Then came an email from Grant’s personal account—not business, personal. The subject line was desperate: Avery, please. We need to talk.
I opened it out of sheer morbid curiosity.
Avery,
Please, you’re destroying everything I’ve worked for. Venture Peak walked out of the meeting. Leah handed in her resignation letter thirty minutes ago. The company is falling apart around me, and I don't even know what I did that was so unforgivable.
It was a stupid joke at a party. You know how I get when I’m drinking around those guys—I try to play a role. I didn't mean a single word of it. You are the smartest, most talented person I know, and Northline is as much yours as it is mine.
Can we please just meet for coffee? Let me explain.
— Grant
I stared at the screen, reading the pathetic, self-pitying words. I didn't mean a single word of it. Of course he meant every word. That was the tragedy of Grant Mercer; his true character was always revealed when he thought nobody important was listening.
I didn't reply. I simply archived the email, blocked his address, and closed my laptop.
At three o'clock, I walked into the sleek, glass-walled offices of Venture Peak Capital in the West Loop.
The contrast between Grant’s chaotic, whiskey-scented apartment and the pristine, minimalist elegance of Venture Peak’s executive suite felt like stepping into another dimension. The receptionist greeted me by name, offering sparkling water before leading me down a corridor lined with abstract art to Elena Vance’s corner office.
Elena Vance looked even sharper in person than she did over the phone—tailored charcoal blazer, immaculate silver-streaked hair, and eyes that missed nothing. She stood up from her glass desk as I entered, extending a hand.
“Avery Holt. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” Elena said, shaking my hand with a firm, confident grip. “Please, sit.”
I took a seat across from her desk, folding my hands neatly in my lap.
“I’ll cut straight to the chase, Avery,” Elena said, settling back into her leather chair and opening a sleek tablet. “Our compliance team reviewed the legal notice and the metadata files your attorney forwarded this morning. To put it mildly, Grant Mercer’s pitch was an unmitigated disaster. Leah Chen gave us a full debrief on how the brand architecture was actually developed. As a result, Venture Peak has officially terminated all investment discussions with Northline House.”
I nodded slowly. “I expected as much.”
“What you might not have expected,” Elena continued, her eyes locking onto mine with a sharp, calculating gleam, “is what we intend to do next.”
“Go on.”
“Venture Peak loves the product concept. We love the market positioning, the consumer narrative, and the growth tiering strategy. But we now know—definitively—that Grant Mercer is an empty suit riding on stolen coattails,” Elena said smoothly. “We are pulling our funding from Northline House LLC. However, we are prepared to structure a brand-new seed round... provided the intellectual property is legally secured by its actual creator.”
My breath hitched. The room seemed to tilt slightly.
May you like
“Are you saying...” I started, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m saying that Venture Peak is willing to back you, Avery,” Elena said, leaning forward resting her arms on the desk. “We want to fund a clean entity—let’s call it Horizon Beverages—built from the ground up under your leadership, with you as majority founder and CEO. Grant Mercer can keep his empty LLC and his stolen cans. Let's see how far he gets without his brain.”
