Chapter 4 - The Midnight Dispatch
Inside the study of the Escalante corporate tower in downtown Chicago, the atmosphere was clinical and intensely focused. Multiple computer screens flickered across mahogany desks, reflecting columns of financial data, corporate asset registries, and banking protocols.
My father, Don Fernando Escalante, stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a glass of scotch. When the private elevator chime announced my arrival, he turned immediately.
His eyes swept over my bruised cheek, the dried blood on my hand, and the torn collar of my dress. A heavy, volcanic fury darkened his features, but he kept his voice completely composed.
“Who did this?” he asked.
“Andrew,” I said quietly, setting my worn brown leather handbag on the table. “And his mother.”
Fernando took a slow sip of his drink, his jaw tightening. “Four years ago, you asked to live among them under an assumed name. You wanted to know if a man could love you for who you were, independent of our name and our wealth. I agreed because I respected your heart, Mariana. But I warned you that wolves do not change their nature simply because you sit at their table.”
“I know, Father,” I replied, standing tall despite the throbbing pain in my face. “And now the experiment is over.”
A sharp rap sounded on the heavy oak door, and our chief legal counsel, Marcus Vance—no relation to Andrew’s family, though sharing the surname always amused us—stepped inside carrying a thick leather briefcase.
“Sir. Madam,” Marcus greeted us crisply. “The primary freeze order has hit every major clearinghouse connected to Harrison Enterprises. All corporate credit lines, revolving loans, and subsidiary accounts are locked. Furthermore, the commercial real estate they pledged as collateral for their last expansion has been recalled under the default provisions of our master financing agreement.”
“How long until they realize it?” I asked.
“The automated payroll systems will fail within three hours,” Marcus replied. “By dawn, when their personal cards are declined at breakfast, the message will be quite clear.”
May you like
My father walked over, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. “You are bleeding, my child. Let our medical team look at that hand.”
“No,” I said, looking out at the glittering skyline of the city where I had built their fortunes from the shadows. “Let the morning come first. I want to see the sunrise from the other side.”
