Chapter 11 - The Rat
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Thursday morning, the skies over Chicago were dark and heavy with impending sleet.
I sat behind my massive desk, the glass walls of my office overlooking the gray city. Julian sat casually on the leather sofa in the corner, holding a cup of black coffee, playing the role of the silent observer.
At exactly 9:00 AM, Daniel Parker was escorted into the room by my security.
He looked horrendous. His expensive suit was wrinkled, his hair was unkempt, and his hands were trembling violently as he clutched a thick black leather briefcase to his chest.
He stopped dead when he saw me sitting in the CEO’s chair, then his eyes darted to Julian in the corner.
“Julian,” Daniel stammered, confusion masking his desperation. “What is she doing here? We were supposed to meet privately.”
“You’re in my building, Daniel,” I said smoothly, gesturing to the empty chair across from my desk. “Sit down.”
Daniel hesitated, looking like a trapped animal, but the sheer weight of his bankruptcy forced him into the chair. He placed the briefcase on his lap like a shield.
“Julian told me you have something to sell,” I said, leaning forward and resting my chin on my steepled fingers.
Daniel swallowed hard, refusing to look me in the eye. He looked at Julian. “The deal was for the house. If I give you this, Vanguard buys the deed from Riverstone and deeds it back to my wife. That was the trade.”
“Vanguard doesn't negotiate with terrorists, Daniel,” Julian said lazily from the sofa. “Show Claire what you brought.”
Daniel’s hands shook as he unlatched the briefcase. He pulled out a stack of internal audit reports and slid them across my desk.
“Ethan doctored the Q3 projections,” Daniel whispered, the betrayal of his own flesh and blood tasting bitter in his mouth. “He inflated our liquid assets by forty percent. It’s federal fraud. If this gets out, he’ll do ten years in minimum security. I’ll sign an affidavit testifying that he acted alone without my knowledge.”
I looked down at the papers. I didn't even need to read them. The absolute moral bankruptcy of this family was staggering.
“You’re giving me the rope to hang your own son,” I said quietly.
“He brought this on us!” Daniel suddenly snapped, anger flashing in his exhausted eyes. “If he hadn't brought you to that dinner, none of this would be happening! I have to protect my wife. I have to protect our legacy!”
I picked up the stack of papers.
“Your legacy is a lie, Daniel,” I said, dropping the papers into the industrial shredder sitting next to my desk.
The machine roared to life, violently chewing the "evidence" into tiny, useless ribbons of paper.
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Daniel leaped out of his chair, screaming. “What are you doing?! That was my only leverage!”
“You have no leverage,” I said coldly over the noise of the shredder. “I don't need your forged documents to destroy Ethan. I already have. Get out of my office, Daniel. And if you ever try to sell your son out again, I’ll be the one who calls the feds on you.”
