Chapter 6 - The Liquidation of Crestview
Arthur Henderson’s knees finally gave out entirely. He slid down the back wall of the counter, landing in a pathetic heap beside the dishwashing racks.
"M-Mr. Vance... Mr. Sterling..." Henderson whimpered, his voice cracking into a high-pitched whine. "I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know who she was! She was just an employee! I was enforcing corporate policy! It was about shrinkage!"
Gregory Sterling slowly rose to his feet.
The submissive, terrified nephew who had knelt before Walter Vance vanished. In his place stood the ruthless, multi-billionaire titan of industry who commanded corporate boards with a nod.
Gregory adjusted his silk tie, turned his cold, calculating gaze onto Henderson, and signaled to the two corporate attorneys standing by the entrance.
"Mr. Davis," Gregory commanded, his voice flat and clinical. "Who owns the franchise licensing agreement for this Crestview location?"
The senior attorney flipped open a leather portfolio, tapping a tablet screen. "The Midwest Hospitality Consortium, sir. Held primarily by Arthur Henderson and his brother."
"Cancel the license," Gregory said without blinking. "Execute the immediate foreclosure rider under Clause 9 for gross brand defamation and labor violations. Call the commercial leasing division; terminate the building lease effective at midnight. Call the city health department and request an immediate, unannounced forensic inspection of the refrigeration logs."
Henderson let out a strangled shriek, scrambling across the floor on his hands and knees, reaching desperately over the counter. "No! Mr. Sterling, please! My life savings are in this franchise! My house is leveraged against the business line of credit! You'll ruin me!"
"You ruined yourself, Henderson," Walter Vance said, leaning his cane against the counter and looking down at the broken manager. "When you decided that eighteen dollars of bread was worth more than a human being's dignity. You tore that girl's apron. You humiliated her in front of strangers. You will leave this building in ten minutes with nothing but the clothes on your back."
Walter turned to the security operatives standing by the door.
"Escort Mr. Henderson from the premises. If he resists, hand him directly to the First District detectives waiting outside for assault and battery on an employee."
Two broad-shouldered men in dark suits stepped behind the counter, grabbed Henderson by the collar of his cheap poly-blend jacket, and dragged him kicking and screaming through the kitchen doors into the service alley.
The heavy metal door slammed shut with an echoing, absolute thud.
The bakery was silent once more.
May you like
Walter turned back to Emily. The cold, unyielding wrath that had just liquidated a man's entire life dissolved instantly, replaced by an infinite, grandfatherly gentleness.
"Now, Emily," Walter said softly. "It is time to claim what your father built for you."
