Chapter 7 - Patricia's Ruin
By two o'clock that afternoon, the news of Whitlock Precision's catastrophic collapse had spread across the Pittsburgh manufacturing sector.
The local trade journals and business publications picked up the story before the markets closed: Whitlock Precision Stripped of Core Machinery Following Multi-Million Dollar Lease Default.
Lockheed Martin formally terminated their four-million-dollar defense subcontract at one-fifteen PM, issuing an immediate demand for liquidated damages.
First National Bank froze Cole's commercial credit lines and triggered an automatic acceleration clause on his personal liabilities.
I was sitting in my father's old office at the Cranberry logistics park, drinking a hot cup of black coffee, when the building receptionist buzzed my intercom.
"Mrs. Bennett, there is a woman named Patricia Whitlock in the lobby causing a major scene."
"Send her to conference room B, please," I replied calmly. "And have security stand outside the door."
When I walked into the conference room, Patricia looked like she had aged fifteen years in forty-eight hours.
Her styled hair was frazzled, her makeup was smudged, and her expensive wool coat was buttoned crookedly over a stained blouse.
Her husband, Grant, sat in the corner chair, his head buried in his trembling hands, looking completely shattered.
"You monster!" Patricia shrieked the second I pushed the door open.
"You vengeful, cold-blooded bitch! What did you do to my son?!"
I sat down at the head of the conference table, folding my hands neatly over my legal folders.
"I reclaimed my private property, Patricia," I said, my voice as calm as a frozen pond.
"Property that your family tried to steal behind my back while celebrating with champagne."
"The bank sent a sheriff's deputy to our home two hours ago, Maren!" Patricia screamed, tears of sheer panic streaming down her face.
"Grant and I co-signed Cole's two-million-dollar equipment line three years ago!"
"The bank says because the machinery is gone, our home is collateral for the deficiency balance!"
"They're foreclosing on our house! We have forty-five days to move out!"
Grant looked up, his bloodshot eyes pleading with the desperation of a drowning man.
"Maren, please... we made a mistake," Grant choked out, his voice shaking violently.
"We shouldn't have supported the divorce like that. We were wrong about Brielle."
"She packed her bags and left Cole's apartment this morning the second she realized the company was finished."
"She took ten thousand dollars from his petty cash safe and blocked his number!"
I leaned back into the leather chair, looking at the two people who had sat at my dining table and mocked my childlessness.
"You told me that Cole needed a wife who could keep up with where his life was going, Patricia," I said softly.
"You told me that I was just an obstacle to his greatness."
"Well, Cole's greatness was built entirely on my father's hard work and my personal capital."
"You wanted him to have his independence."
"Now he has it. Along with all the debts he accrued trying to play the big industrialist."
Patricia fell to her knees beside my chair, grabbing the fabric of my slacks with manic, clawing fingers.
"Maren, please! Give the machines back! Sign a new lease!"
"Cole will take you back! I swear to God, he will beg for your forgiveness on his hands and knees!"
"He will never look at another woman again! We will treat you like a queen!"
I gently pulled my trouser leg from her grip and stood up.
"I don't want a husband who only stays because I hold his leash, Patricia."
"And I don't need your respect."
"I am filing the uncontested divorce decree tomorrow morning."
May you like
"The machines are already leased to an aerospace consortium in Ohio for triple the revenue Cole ever paid me."
"Now please leave my office before I have security remove you for trespassing."
