Chapter 7 - The Billionaire from the Sea
Silence descended over the forty workers. You could hear the slow drip of melting ice falling from the packing crates into the floor drains.
Gloria frowned, glancing from the trembling North Point executive to the tall man standing beside Wren. “Excuse me, Mr. Vance? Why are you addressing this penniless lobster fisherman as Mr. Whitaker?”
The North Point executive didn't even look up at her. He scrambled backward, bumping into his junior associates, his voice cracking with panic. “Penniless? Mrs. Calloway, that is Jonah Whitaker. He is the majority owner of Whitaker Global Logistics, the largest container-freight conglomerate on the Atlantic seaboard. His holding firm owns sixty-two percent of North Point’s parent company!”
The color drained from Gloria’s face so fast she looked like a wax mannequin left out in the sun. She gripped the catwalk railing, her knuckles turning bone white. “What? That’s... that’s absurd! He drives a broken pickup truck! He sells lobsters for thirty dollars off the public dock!”
“Because I like catching lobsters, Mrs. Calloway,” Jonah said, his voice echoing smoothly across the room without needing a microphone. “And because I prefer to know the people who live in my harbor before I decide whether they deserve my business.”
Tessa stepped forward, her mouth opening and closing like a landed bass. “This is a joke. It’s an act! He’s trying to intimidate us! Mom, sign the papers! The contract is valid!”
“The contract is entirely worthless,” said the sharp-suited attorney beside Jonah, stepping forward and unscrewing his own fountain pen. “I am Arthur Vance, lead counsel for Whitaker Global. We have filed an emergency injunction with the superior court this morning. Furthermore, North Point Capital has officially withdrawn its acquisition offer pursuant to direct instructions from London.”
The North Point executives hurriedly zipped their leather portfolios, bowed nervously toward Jonah, and scurried out the side delivery exit into the rain without offering Gloria a single backward glance.
Gloria’s voice rose into a shrill shriek. “It doesn't matter! I still own Calloway Seafood Inc.! I own every machine, every smokehouse kiln, every boat in the harbor! If you won’t let me sell the land to North Point, I’ll sell the equipment for scrap and burn this building to the ground!”
Wren stepped forward, pulling the velvet-wrapped parchment from her coat pocket and holding it aloft for every worker to see.
“You don't own the building, Gloria. And you certainly don't own the land.”
Wren’s clear, steady voice filled the room with the quiet authority of her mother Maggie. “This is the nineteen-eighty-four ground lease executed by Maggie Whitaker Calloway. The land beneath this factory belongs to my mother’s bloodline. Under Section Twelve, any attempt by the corporate entity to sell without the landowner’s consent immediately terminates your commercial rights. You have defaulted on the lease.”
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The lead deputy sheriff stepped up to the base of the catwalk, pulling two bright yellow legal notices from his leather belt.
“Gloria Calloway, Tessa Calloway. By order of the Cumberland County District Court, you are hereby served with an immediate writ of eviction from this facility. Furthermore, Platform Seven and Whitaker Capital have initiated judicial foreclosure on your primary residence at twelve Shoreline Drive for delinquent debt obligations totaling four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
