Chapter 9 - The Foreclosure
|
The morning after the gala, the financial bloodbath reached its inevitable climax.
I was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, watching the snow fall over the Chicago skyline, when Susan walked in carrying a thick red folder.
“It’s done,” Susan said, dropping the folder onto my desk with a heavy, satisfying thud.
I turned around. “All of it?”
“All of it,” Susan confirmed, a rare, vicious smile on her face. “When Julian Vance denied their bailout, the secondary banks panicked. They called the commercial loans this morning at 8:00 AM. Parker Industries didn't have the liquidity to cover even ten percent of it. They defaulted.”
I walked over to the desk and opened the folder. Inside were the deeds, the loan transfers, and the asset forfeiture documents.
“And the collateral?” I asked.
“That’s the best part,” Susan said, tapping a specific document. “To secure the final extension three months ago, Daniel Parker put up their personal assets to back the corporate debt. The holding company just bought the debt from the banks for pennies on the dollar.”
I looked at the address printed on the deed. It was the massive estate in the suburbs. The same house with the polished wood and the smell of lilies. The same house where Margaret Parker had looked at my mother and told her she should be grateful to be invited inside.
“I own their house,” I whispered, the reality of the absolute victory washing over me.
“You own their house, their cars, and the corporate headquarters,” Susan said. “They are officially tenants in your world, Claire. What do you want to do with the estate?”
I picked up the deed, tracing the raised seal with my index finger.
“Draft an eviction notice,” I said coldly. “Standard thirty days. Have it delivered by courier directly to Margaret’s front door. I want her to be the one who signs for it.”
Susan nodded, gathering the papers. “And Parker Industries?”
“File the hostile takeover paperwork,” I commanded. “I want their board of directors summoned to my building by Friday. It’s time to take the crown.”
As Susan left the office, my private cell phone rang. It was an unknown number, but I answered it anyway.
“Claire,” Daniel Parker’s voice rasped through the speaker. He sounded completely broken, a man who had aged ten years in twenty-four hours. “Please. Don't take the house. Margaret is having a nervous breakdown.”
I stared out the window at the falling snow.
May you like
“People like you should be grateful to be invited into homes like this, Daniel,” I quoted his wife’s words back to him perfectly. “You have thirty days to vacate my property.”
I hung up the phone.
