Chapter 5 - The Corporate Execution
The ink on the preliminary term sheet was still metaphorically warm when Sarah Sterling, my attorney, called me Tuesday morning to discuss the dissolution mechanics of Grant’s stolen little empire.
Northline House LLC was effectively dead in the water. Without Venture Peak’s capital injection, without Leah Chen managing operations, and without my brand positioning strategy, Grant was staring down the barrel of crushing supplier debts, unsold inventory sitting in a damp warehouse in Cicero, and a breach-of-contract lawsuit from his packaging vendors.
By Wednesday afternoon, the fallout had reached a fever pitch.
I was sitting at Chloe’s kitchen table reviewing financial projections for the new entity—tentatively registered as Vanguard Brands under my own name—when my phone buzzed with an unknown number.
I picked it up, expecting Elena Vance or Sarah Sterling.
“Avery?”
The voice was ragged, exhausted, and unmistakably Grant.
I froze. “How did you get this number, Grant? I blocked your cell.”
“I’m calling from a burner phone,” he said, his usual polished cadence completely gone, replaced by a desperate, cracking desperation. “Avery, please. You have to talk to me. The warehouse is threatening to impound our entire winter inventory. My credit cards are maxed out. Leah won't return my calls, and Venture Peak’s lawyers sent a formal demand letter this morning threatening fraud charges if I try to market any of the brand copy you claimed.”
I leaned back against the kitchen chair, my expression hard and devoid of pity. “You reap what you sow, Grant. You wanted to be the sole founder of Northline House. Congratulations. You got your wish.”
“I was arrogant!” he sobbed, the sound pathetic and grating. “I was drunk! I didn't think you’d actually leave! You were always so quiet, Avery... I thought you liked being in the background. I didn't know you had it in you to destroy me.”
“I didn't destroy you, Grant,” I said quietly. “You destroyed yourself the moment you decided that my loyalty, my intelligence, and my work were things you could exploit and belittle behind my back. The moment you called me inferior in front of your friends, you signed your own professional death warrant.”
“Please... Avery. We can merge! We can make it a fifty-fifty partnership! I’ll step down as CEO, you can run the company—just please, call off your lawyers. If this goes to court, I’m ruined.”
“It’s already going to court, Grant,” I said coldly. “And as for merging? My new company, Vanguard Brands, just signed an exclusive term sheet with Venture Peak Capital this morning. We don't need Northline House. In fact, we’re positioning ourselves to capture the exact market share you were aiming for.”
A heavy, suffocating silence hung on the other end of the line. The realization that he had not only lost his girlfriend, his reputation, and his company, but had actively handed his entire market niche to the person he had called inferior, finally settled over him like a lead blanket.
“You... you planned this,” he whispered, horror creeping into his voice.
“No, Grant,” I said, looking out Chloe’s window at the falling snow. “I just stopped covering for you.”
I hung up the phone, walked into the settings menu, blocked the burner number, and tossed the device onto the table.
Chloe, who had been listening from the stove while stirring a pot of soup, turned around with a wide, approving grin.
May you like
“Was that the autopsy?” she asked.
“That,” I said, standing up and stretching my arms, “was the closing argument.”
