Chapter 5 - The Corporate Wrecking Ball
By 7:00 AM the next morning, the report was sitting on the mahogany desk of my temporary executive suite at the Peninsula Chicago.
I hadn't slept. I sat in a high-backed leather chair, a half-empty glass of scotch beside me, reading the pages compiled by my private investigators. The data was dry, clinical, and devastating.
Elizabeth Vance. Age 29. Former graphic designer. Current employment: Hostess and server at La Maison Steakhouse, average weekly wage $650 plus tips. Medical history: Complicated pregnancy resulting in emergency C-section, followed by severe postpartum complications due to lack of insurance and inadequate rest. Child: Chloe Vance. Age 14 months.
My eyes lingered on the name. Chloe.
She had named our daughter Chloe—meaning blooming, green, full of life—while she was working herself to the bone in a city that had chewed her up and spat her out.
The phone on my desk buzzed sharply. I picked it up on the first ring.
“Speak.”
“Mr. Sterling,” Marcus’s voice came through, brisk and efficient. “The acquisition of the residential building on Racine Avenue is complete. The previous landlord accepted our cash offer above market value within ten minutes. We also acquired the commercial lease for La Maison Steakhouse through our holding company.”
I leaned back, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second. “And the lease terms?”
“We now own the real estate beneath both properties. Furthermore, effective immediately, La Maison is undergoing ‘mandatory structural inspections,’ which means the restaurant is closed for the next two weeks.”
“Good,” I said coldly. “Make sure every employee receives full pay during the closure, especially Elizabeth Vance. But ensure she cannot step foot back in that restaurant.”
“Understood, sir. What’s our next move?”
“Move my schedule for today. Cancel the Dallas breakfast. Tell Arthur the merger is on hold indefinitely until I give the word.”
“Sir, the Dallas partners flew in specifically—vocabularies are going to explode—”
“Let them explode,” I snapped, cutting him off. “I don't care if the entire board resigns. My daughter is living in a drafty apartment while her mother breaks her back serving steaks to idiots. My priorities have shifted.”
I hung up the phone before Marcus could reply.
May you like
I stood up, straightened my tie, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan. The sun was breaking through the gray clouds, casting a sharp, unforgiving light over the city.
It was time to face the music.
