Chapter 7 - The Hostile Takeover
The next morning, the glass-and-steel headquarters of Wycliffe Development in midtown Manhattan was a war zone.
By 7:45 AM, three black SUVs from Ellsworth Meridian had pulled up to the curb. When I stepped out of the elevator onto the forty-fourth floor, accompanied by our chief legal counsel, David Vance, and two senior forensic accountants, the reception area was in complete disarray. Rumors had already spread like wildfire through the executive suites.
Ethan was already there.
He was wearing the same rumpled suit from the night before, his eyes bloodshot, smelling faintly of cheap scotch and stale coffee. He was frantically trying to load cardboard boxes with files from his corner office, shouting at his terrified administrative assistant to shred private hard drives.
“Step away from the shredder, Lisa,” I said calmly, stepping through the glass double doors.
Lisa froze, looking between Ethan and me, before immediately stepping back and dropping the stack of papers onto her desk.
“Maren!” Ethan rounded on me, his face wild with exhaustion and rage. “This is my office! You have no legal standing to enter this floor without a court order!”
David Vance stepped forward, opening a leather brief to present a certified Delaware Chancery filing stamped at 6:30 AM. “Actually, Mr. Wycliffe, under the emergency resolution executed by Chairman Warren Wycliffe last night, Maren Ellsworth has been appointed Interim Chief Executive Officer and sole managing director. Your employment has been terminated for cause, effective immediately.”
“Terminated?!” Ethan’s voice cracked into a shriek that drew the attention of dozens of employees peeking out from their cubicles. “You can’t fire me from my own family company!”
“It hasn't been your family company since your father pledged his voting equity to Ellsworth Meridian three years ago to save you from a margin call, Ethan,” David replied without a shred of emotion. “Furthermore, building security has been instructed to revoke your keycard access. Two private security officers are waiting in the lobby to escort you off the premises.”
Ethan looked at the security guards standing behind me—two hulking former federal marshals who did not look remotely amused. He turned back to me, his hands shaking violently as he tried to plead.
“Maren, look around you! These people respect me! You can’t just walk in here and erase me!”
“Respect you?” I asked, looking past him into the open-plan bullpen where twenty junior analysts were watching the spectacle. “They spent the last two years watching you show up at noon, take three-hour lunches with socialites, and dump your financial modeling onto first-year associates while you took the credit. Nobody respects you here, Ethan. They feared your father. They tolerated you because they needed their health insurance.”
At that moment, Uncle Curtis rushed off the elevator, breathing heavily, waving a sheaf of legal papers. “Maren! We filed an emergency injunction! The board didn't meet! You can’t seize the asset without a twenty-four-hour notice!”
I didn't even turn around. “David?”
“Mr. Curtis Wycliffe,” David said, turning smoothly to face the uncle. “As of 7:00 AM, the forensic audit of your overseas expense accounts revealed approximately four million dollars in unauthorized kickbacks from concrete suppliers in New Jersey. The Manhattan District Attorney’s white-collar crime division has already been notified. If I were you, I would spend my morning hiring a criminal defense attorney rather than drafting frivolous civil injunctions.”
Curtis stopped dead in his tracks. The legal papers slipped from his fingers, fluttering across the marble floor. He looked at me, his eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated terror, before turning on his heel and walking straight back into the waiting elevator without uttering another syllable.
Ethan watched his uncle abandon him like a sinking ship. The realization that there was no backup, no cavalry, and no escape finally broke whatever pride he had left.
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“You planned this,” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling with hollow despair. “You knew about Celeste. You knew about Curtis. You set this trap.”
“I didn't set a trap, Ethan,” I answered softly, stepping close enough that only he could hear me over the low hum of the office. “I simply stopped catching you when you fell. You jumped off the cliff all by yourself. Now pack your coat and leave my building.”
