Chapter 15 - The Corporate Fortress
Sarah Jenkins, senior partner at Jenkins & Sterling Corporate Law, let out a low, appreciative whistle over the phone.
"Your family? The same bunch of amateur fraudsters who tried to pin a seventeen-grand loan on you?" Sarah asked, her voice laced with sharp amusement. "Ethan, honey, do they have a death wish? Or are they just clinically detached from reality?"
"A lethal combination of both," I replied, leaning back in my ergonomic leather chair. "They sent a formal mediation invitation through an attorney named Goldstein. They're trying to set up a pressure chamber in Century City on Monday morning."
"Goldstein & Associates," Sarah murmured, typing something on her end. I heard the rapid-fire clicking of a mechanical keyboard. "Ah. I know them. They specialize in predatory civil suits and doorstep debt-consolidation schemes. They represent desperate clients who are about to lose everything."
"Can they force me to attend?"
"Force you? Absolutely not. It’s a private mediation, not a court-ordered deposition," Sarah said firmly. "However, ignoring it completely might give them ammunition to paint you in a bad light if they manage to drag this into family court, though legally, you owe them zero obligations."
"I don't want to ignore it," I said quietly. A plan was forming in my mind, polished and dangerous. "I want to go."
Silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. Then, Sarah laughed—a sharp, delighted sound. "Oh, I like the sound of that. You want to walk right into the lion's den?"
"I don't want to walk in as a victim," I corrected her. "I want to walk in as the auditor. If they want a mediation, let's give them a proper corporate audit. I want your senior paralegal and a certified financial forensic investigator to accompany me as my legal representation."
"Consider it done," Sarah said, her tone shifting into pure, tactical excitement. "We’ll draft a counter-notice by tonight. We won't just show up to their little mediation; we’ll turn their mediation table into an official deposition hearing with documented proof of their ongoing financial crimes. We’ll bury them so deep in paper they won't see daylight until retirement."
"Make sure Goldstein knows we're bringing receipts," I said. "Literal, forensic receipts."
"Ethan?" Sarah paused for a moment. "Just out of curiosity... what's your end game here? You could crush them completely and walk away. Why engage at all?"
May you like
I looked past my monitor, out at the vast, tranquil expanse of the Pacific Ocean, remembering the boy who used to sit quietly in the corner of his childhood home, absorbing every insult, taking the blame for every broken vase, every financial shortfall, every shattered expectation.
"Because," I whispered, "monsters don't stop haunting you just because you lock the door. Sometimes, you have to drag them out into the sunlight so everyone can see what they really are."
