Chapter 5 - The Pressure Rises
By noon, the reality of their nightmare began to hit Garrett and Delilah with crushing force.
The heat in the mansion had shut off three hours ago because the smart HVAC system had been remotely decommissioned by Apex IT operations. The temperature inside the ten-thousand-square-foot house was dropping fast, echoing the freezing rain falling outside.
Garrett sat huddled in a corner of the master bedroom, wrapped in three designer winter coats that had been left in his wardrobe pile. His mother sat beside him on the bare floor, wrapped in her mink coat, shivering and glaring at her son with absolute resentment.
"This is all your fault, Garrett!" Delilah hissed, her teeth chattering. "You told me you had this woman completely under your thumb! You told me she was weak!"
"Shut up, Mom!" Garrett snapped, pulling his collar up. "I didn't know she owned the company! She never told me! She let me believe she was just a small-time consultant!"
"Because you never asked!" Delilah shouted back. "You were too busy buying twenty-thousand-dollar wine cases with her money!"
Garrett’s stomach let out a loud, painful growl. He hadn't eaten since yesterday evening.
He looked down at his phone. The battery was at 14%. Because the wall outlets in the main rooms had been disabled during the fixture removal, he couldn't even charge his phone.
"I have to go to the kitchen," Garrett muttered, pushing himself off the floor.
He walked down into the freezing kitchen. The puddle of melted ice water around the chained Sub-Zero refrigerator had expanded into a massive pool across the hardwood floor. Inside, thousands of dollars worth of Delilah’s imported cheeses, raw meats, and delicate seafood were slowly warm-spoiling in the dark.
Garrett grabbed a heavy metal crowbar from his garage tool kit and slammed it against the brass padlock hanging from the chain.
BANG!
The heavy brass lock barely took a scratch. The shockwave traveled up the iron bar, vibrating violently through Garrett’s hands and sending a sharp pain up his wrists.
BANG! BANG!
He struck it again and again, screaming in frustration, but the heavy industrial chain remained unbroken. The eye-bolts he had so proudly driven into the cabinetry were reinforced with industrial steel backing—ironically, his own cruel lock was holding stronger than he could have ever imagined.
"Damn it!" Garrett screamed, throwing the crowbar across the empty room. It clattered loudly against the bare quartz counter, echoing endlessly through the empty mansion.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A battery warning popped up: 5% Remaining.
He frantically opened his banking app.
Garrett had three private bank accounts. For the past three years, he had been funneling money out of our joint account to fund his luxurious lifestyle, his high-stakes trading habit, and his mother’s lavish monthly allowance. He opened his primary checking account, expecting to see his remaining forty-thousand-dollar balance.
Account Balance: -$112,500.00 (FROZEN)
Garrett gasped, his eyes widening in sheer terror. He tapped on the red alert banner on his screen.
A legal notice appeared:
NOTICE OF TEMPORARY ACCOUNT FREEZE
Pursuant to a emergency injunction filed by Apex Global Holdings LLC in the District Court of Connecticut, all accounts associated with Garrett Vance have been frozen pending investigation into unauthorized corporate credit card usage and misappropriation of funds.
"No... no, no, no!" Garrett panicked, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He realized what had happened. Over the past two years, he had used a supplementary corporate card I gave him for "family emergencies" to purchase his private wine cellar collection, buy custom suits, and pay off Delilah’s credit card debts. I had quietly logged every single receipt, every transfer, and every unauthorized transaction, waiting for the exact right moment to strike.
His phone buzzed again. An incoming call popped up on the screen.
It was his primary investor and business partner, Marcus Vance (no relation), the chairman of the private equity firm funding Garrett’s new tech venture.
Garrett quickly answered, his voice breathless. "Marcus! Thank God. Marcus, I need a massive favor—"
"Garrett," Marcus’s voice came through the line, cold as liquid nitrogen. "Don't bother speaking. I'm calling to inform you that Vance Innovations is officially terminating your contract as Chief Operating Officer, effective five minutes ago."
Garrett felt the ground slide out from under his feet. "What?! Marcus, you can't do that! We're two weeks away from our Series A funding round!"
"We were two weeks away," Marcus corrected coldly. "Until thirty minutes ago, when Apex Logistics—our primary logistics provider and target anchor investor—notified our board that they are severing all commercial ties with Vance Innovations due to your gross financial misconduct and personal liability risks."
"Marcus, please! It's a personal dispute with my wife! She's overreacting!" Garrett begged, dropping to his knees on the cold kitchen floor.
"Your wife is Victoria Sterling, Garrett," Marcus barked. "She controls forty percent of the supply chain infrastructure on the East Coast! Do you have any idea what you've done?! You just destroyed our company to flex on a woman who could buy and sell you ten times over!"
BEEP.
The call disconnected.
A second later, Garrett’s phone screen turned completely black. The battery was dead.
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The silence that settled over the empty ten-thousand-square-foot mansion was total, suffocating, and deafening.
Garrett sat on the freezing floor, surrounded by bare walls, staring at the locked, rotting refrigerator in front of him. For the first time in his life, the arrogant, entitled man realized that his entire illusion of power had vanished into thin air... and the storm was just getting started.
