Chapter 4 - The Penthouse Eviction
The elevator ride down from the forty-second floor felt like a descent into the inferno for Daniel Whitmore. By the time he and Vanessa reached the marble lobby, two uniformed private security officers stood beside the turnstiles, ensuring Daniel didn't attempt to enter any other company offices.
""This isn't over!"" Daniel snarled at the guards as they ushered him toward the revolving doors. ""I have private accounts! I have the penthouse!""
Vanessa was clutching his arm, sobbing hysterically. ""Daniel, what did they mean about the Cayman account being frozen? Where am I going to live? The press is outside my apartment building!""
""Be quiet, Vanessa! Stop crying!"" Daniel shoved past the glass doors onto Madison Avenue.
Flashing cameras immediately blinded them. Three paparazzi teams and two financial reporters from Bloomberg were waiting on the sidewalk. Daniel had spent years cultivating press contacts; now those same contacts swarmed him like vultures.
""Mr. Whitmore! Is it true the SEC has opened an investigation into Apex Holdings?""
""Did your wife remove you from the board?""
""Miss Miller, are you facing federal fraud charges?""
Daniel shoved his way through the cameras, pulling Vanessa toward a yellow taxi cab. ""No comment! Get out of my way!"" They tumbled into the backseat, Daniel shouting at the driver, ""740 Park Avenue! Move! Step on it!""
The ten-minute drive uptown was suffocating. Daniel frantically tapped his iPhone screen, trying to open his personal banking applications. Every attempt returned a red alert banner: Account Temporarily Restricted. Contact Customer Service.
""Damn it! Damn it all to hell!"" Daniel slammed his phone against the taxi's leather seat.
""Daniel, my credit card was declined at Starbucks this morning,"" Vanessa wept, her face ruined with tears. ""You said you had fifty million dollars! You said Eleanor was an empty shell who wouldn't dare fight back! You said she was afraid of public shame!""
""I thought she was!"" Daniel yelled, turning on her with wild fury. ""She stayed quiet for six months! She knew about you and she never said a word! How was I supposed to know she was building a federal case behind my back?""
""Because you're stupid!"" Vanessa screamed back. ""You made me walk up to her with that stupid coffee cup! You wanted to play games with a billionaire's daughter, and now both of us are going to prison!""
The taxi screeched to a halt outside the grand pre-war facade of 740 Park Avenue. Daniel didn't even pay the fare; he tossed a crumpled fifty-dollar bill at the partition and bolted out of the door, needing to get inside his sanctuary. The duplex penthouse was his refuge. It was where his custom suits hung, where his modern art collection was displayed, where he believed he was untouchable.
He pushed through the brass doors into the lobby.
The head doorman, Arthur, who had worked in the building for twenty-five years, stepped out from behind the mahogany concierge desk. He was not smiling. Beside him stood two men in locksmith uniforms carrying heavy toolboxes.
""Good morning, Mr. Whitmore,"" Arthur said formally.
""Arthur, don't let anyone up,"" Daniel ordered, rushing toward the private elevator bank. ""No reporters, no delivery drivers, nobody.""
""I'm afraid you won't be going up either, sir,"" Arthur said, holding up a flat palm.
Daniel stopped dead. ""What did you say?""
""The proprietary lease for Penthouse B is held under the Calloway Real Estate Corporation,"" Arthur explained, pulling an envelope from his pocket and handing it to Daniel. ""We received a certified court order and a change of occupancy notice from Mrs. Whitmore’s legal counsel this morning. The locks on Penthouse B were changed at 8:00 AM.""
Daniel ripped the envelope open. The court order was stamped with the seal of the New York State Supreme Court.
""My clothes are up there!"" Daniel roared, his voice bouncing off the marble walls of the quiet lobby. ""My watches! My passport!""
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""Your personal belongings have been packed into fourteen cardboard boxes by a bonded moving crew,"" Arthur said without a shred of pity. ""They are currently stored in the service basement. You have twenty-four hours to arrange for freight pickup, after which they will be placed in municipal storage.""
Vanessa collapsed onto a leather bench in the lobby, burying her face in her hands. Daniel stood in the center of the foyer, holding the court order, completely undone. The grand life he had borrowed, piece by piece, had just locked its doors against him.
