Chapter 3 - The Golden Parachute Fails
Daniel stared at the highlighted wire transfers, his throat working convulsively as the color drained from his face. The cocky, untouchable husband who had lounged across my diner booth twenty-four hours earlier looked suddenly small, exposed, and entirely out of breath.
"That... that was an executive housing allocation," Daniel stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "Brooke was brought on as an independent marketing consultant for the Midwest logistics expansion."
Arthur raised a single silver eyebrow. "An independent consultant whose personal resume shows three years as a boutique fitness receptionist and who signed her residential lease using your private corporate credit guarantee?"
"It's a legitimate expense!" Daniel shouted, slamming his palm onto the glass table. "The board will never uphold this! I brought in the automotive tooling contracts! I saved this plant during the recession!"
"You managed the contracts, Daniel," Arthur replied evenly. "My client provided the capital, the land, and the industrial bonding. And as of eight o'clock this morning, the board of directors convened an emergency teleconference."
Arthur pulled out a certified resolution bearing four signatures, including those of the two minority partners who had known my father since trade school.
"The board voted unanimously to terminate your executive contract for cause," Arthur announced, rising slowly to his feet. "Your corporate credit accounts have been suspended. The leased sedan parked in the executive stall is registered to the tooling company; security will require your keys before you exit the building."
Daniel’s chest heaved, his eyes wild with fury and disbelief. "Where is she?! Where is Claire?! Tell her to get down here and face me right now!"
"Claire is currently having her morning coffee in her kitchen," Arthur said, gathering his documents into his briefcase. "And her strict instructions are that all future communications must pass through my office."
Two uniformed security guards—men Daniel had hired and berated for years—stepped into the doorway of the office, their faces set in stone.
"Mr. Holloway," the lead guard said firmly. "We have orders to escort you from the premises. Please surrender your company badge and parking pass."
Daniel looked at the two men, then at Arthur, realizing with sudden, sickening horror that not a single person on that factory floor was going to stand up for him.
He reached into his pocket, threw his heavy brass key ring onto the desk with a clatter, and grabbed his briefcase.
"She thinks she’s being clever," Daniel hissed, his jaw twitching violently as he backed toward the door. "She thinks she can destroy my life and walk away clean! I will take half of every dime she has in divorce court! I will take the house on Elm Street!"
May you like
Arthur closed the latches of his briefcase with two sharp, final clicks.
"I strongly suggest you read the premarital agreement your father made you sign in 1998, Daniel," Arthur whispered softly. "You might find the infidelity clauses particularly illuminating."
