Chapter 2 - The Sunday Panic
By Sunday afternoon, the autumn rain had turned into a steady, freezing drizzle that slickened the streets of Cambridge.
Julian sat in his father’s opulent private study on Brattle Street, holding a glass of scotch with white-knuckled fingers.
Across the mahogany desk sat Arthur Sterling, his seventy-year-old face flushed an alarming shade of crimson beneath his silver hair.
Margaret sat on the leather sofa, her designer cardigan pulled tightly around her trembling frame, still in shock from the holiday disaster.
"You fool," Arthur growled, slamming his fist onto the leather blotter so hard the crystal decanters rattled.
"You chose Thanksgiving Day? While she was basting the damn bird in front of your mother and sisters?"
"Arthur, please," Margaret whispered, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "Think of his blood pressure."
"To hell with his blood pressure!" Arthur roared, standing up and pointing a furious finger at his son.
"He just incinerated a forty-five-million-dollar buyout because he couldn't keep his zipper closed around an entry-level marketing assistant!"
Julian took a ragged breath, staring down at the Persian rug.
"I didn't know she held the controlling vote on the Hawthorne Trust, Dad. You always told me Lily’s shares were non-voting advisory assets."
"Her grandfather founded Hawthorne Logistics, Julian!" Arthur barked, his voice cracking with exasperation.
"When we merged the companies seven years ago, her family's trust put up twelve million dollars in liquid collateral to cover our commercial debt. The covenant states that any disposition of majority equity requires her personal, uncoerced consent!"
Julian rubbed his face, dark purple shadows bruising the skin under his bloodshot eyes.
He hadn't slept in forty-eight hours.
His phone had buzzed continuously with panicked texts from Mia, who was currently crying in a luxury rental in Seaport, terrified that her dream of becoming the wife of a wealthy corporate vice president was evaporating.
"I've called her eighty-nine times, Dad," Julian stammered, his voice breaking.
"She blocked my number. She blocked Mom. She isn't answering her email."
"Then you take your coat, you find whatever hotel she’s hiding in, and you get down on your knees," Arthur dictated, leaning across the desk with lethal coldness.
"You beg, Julian. You tell her whatever lies she needs to hear. Because if Vantage walks away from that table tomorrow, Sterling Industries is bankrupt before Christmas."
The study door swung open.
Julian’s sister, Claire, stood in the doorway, holding a newly delivered priority courier envelope with a crimson wax seal.
"It's from Eleanor Vance's legal office," Claire said, her voice shaking as she handed the envelope to her father.
Arthur tore open the thick paper with a letter opener, pulling out a three-page certified injunction.
He read the first paragraph, and the color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking frail, hollow, and ten years older.
"What does it say, Dad?" Julian asked, rising from his chair in sudden panic.
Arthur dropped the paper onto the desk as if it were dipped in poison.
May you like
"She filed for an emergency freeze on all corporate assets," Arthur whispered, his voice hollowed out.
"And she called a full shareholder summit for 9:00 AM tomorrow. She isn't hiding, Julian. She's coming to take the company."
