Chapter 8 - Cleaning House
""Mr. Reid,"" Lena Brooks said, stepping forward and placing a red leather binder onto Marcus's pristine desk. ""I am Lena Brooks, chief counsel for Apex Meridian Holdings, the master property holder of Hawthorne Ridge.""
Marcus let out a nervous, breathless laugh, looking to Carter for help. ""Carter, what is she talking about? Is this some kind of fraternity prank? Why is this fired caddie wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit?""
Carter didn't even look up; he stared blankly at the Persian rug beneath his shoes. ""Marcus... shut up. Just shut up and listen to him.""
Marcus’s throat went dry. ""Carter?""
Evan stepped forward, placing his palms on the edge of Marcus’s desk, leaning in close. His voice was calm, steady, and utterly devastating. ""You told me on Saturday that I was a caddie, not an attorney, and that documentation didn't matter. You snatched my badge and fired a college student because she had the courage to tell the truth about a member abusing staff.""
""I... I was protecting the club's interests!"" Marcus stammered, beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead. ""Club policy dictates that member harmony comes first!""
""Club policy is dictated by the master lease agreement,"" Lena countered crisply. ""Under Article 22 of the property deed, Apex Meridian reserves the right to immediately terminate the club's management contract in the event of documented labor abuse, discriminatory practices, or managerial malfeasance. We have sworn affidavits from nine former caddies detailing the systemic wage theft, verbal abuse, and arbitrary dismissals you've orchestrated over the last three years.""
Marcus’s face turned white. ""You can't do this. The board of directors—""
""The board of directors answers to the landlord,"" Evan interrupted. ""And as of nine o'clock this morning, the board has been informed that the thirty-year ground lease renewal is contingent upon two non-negotiable conditions.""
Evan pointed a finger at Marcus. ""First: your immediate, uncompensated termination as General Manager. You have twenty minutes to clear your personal desk. If you are still on the property at eleven o’clock, private security will escort you off in handcuffs.""
Marcus sank into his high-backed leather chair, his arrogant facade crumbling into pathetic whimpering. ""Evan... please. I have a mortgage. I've been in private club management for twenty years. If I get fired under these terms, no club in America will ever hire me.""
""You should have thought about that before you treated working people like disposable garbage,"" Evan said coldly.
May you like
Evan then turned his gaze toward Sienna Vail, who was trembling in the doorway, clutching her designer handbag against her chest like a shield.
""And condition number two,"" Evan said, his eyes locking onto hers.
