Chapter 7 - The Auction Of The Mercer Empire
Three months later, the spring sun brought a fresh breeze across the downtown Chicago riverwalk.
Inside the Grand Ballroom of the Palmer House Hotel, the bankruptcy auction of Mercer Development assets was underway.
Dozens of commercial developers, private equity brokers, and banking executives filled the velvet seats, reviewing liquidation catalogs.
Daniel Mercer sat in the back corner of the room, flanked by a court-appointed public defender.
He was wearing an off-the-rack suit that was two sizes too large for his diminished frame, his face pale and hollow.
His mother sat beside him, wearing a dark veil to hide her tear-stained eyes from the local press photographers.
"Lot forty-two," the auctioneer announced from the podium, his voice echoing through the massive PA system.
"The master leasehold for the Lakefront Towers and associated commercial parcels, starting at forty-five million dollars."
Daniel looked up with desperate hope, praying that an anonymous investment syndicate would buy the properties and keep his father's name on the deeds.
"Do I have forty-five million?" the auctioneer called out.
The heavy double doors at the back of the ballroom opened, and a sudden hush swept across the five hundred people in attendance.
Julian Vance walked into the room, impeccably dressed in a midnight-blue three-piece suit, his presence commanding absolute silence.
On his arm walked Evelyn Whitmore, now eight months pregnant, radiant and breathtaking in an emerald-green silk gown.
Her head was held high, her diamond earrings catching the light of the crystal chandeliers, looking every bit the heiress her grandmother had raised.
Daniel gasped, gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned chalk-white.
"Evelyn..." he muttered, his voice trembling with disbelief and humiliated awe.
Julian didn't look at Daniel; he raised his ivory bidding paddle with casual, effortless confidence.
"One hundred million dollars," Julian declared, his baritone voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
"Cash payment from the Whitmore-Vance Family Trust."
The room erupted into frantic murmurs and gasps as the auctioneer’s gavel hovered in mid-air.
"One hundred million once... twice... sold to Mrs. Evelyn Whitmore!"
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The wooden gavel struck the block with a resounding crack that sounded like the final nail in the Mercer family coffin.
Barbara Mercer let out a loud sob, burying her face into her hands as Daniel slumped completely forward in his seat, utterly vanquished.
