Chapter 4 - Eviction NoticePanic, sharp and suffocating, finally broke through Graham’s arrogant exterior.
“Terminated?” Graham stammered, staring at the paper as if it were written in a foreign language. “You can’t fire me! My grandfather founded this regional branch! I know the board members personally—I play golf with CEO Harrison every weekend!”
“You play golf with a mid-level regional manager whom you mistook for the CEO,” Arthur corrected coolly. “The true CEO and founder of Vale International Holdings chose not to reveal her identity to you because, frankly, your corporate performance was entirely irrelevant to her.”
Vivian gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. “Who is the CEO? Name them! We have powerful friends in Washington, we have judges in our pocket—we will sue this company into dust!”
Arthur offered a faint, humorless smile. “You can attempt to sue Ms. Vale all you like, madam. But as of 8:00 AM this morning, this entire estate—the land, the structure, the art on the walls, and the furniture you are currently sitting on—has been repossessed by Vale International as collateral against your defaulted personal loans.”
“That’s impossible!” Graham shouted, slamming his fists onto the table. “This house is ours! We own it free and clear!”
“You signed the collateral guarantee forms three years ago when you expanded your personal investment portfolio,” Arthur said, checking his watch. “You used the estate as backing for a high-risk venture capital play that just went belly-up. You have exactly two hours to pack your personal belongings and vacate the premises. Our moving trucks will arrive at noon.”
The auditors turned on their heels and walked out of the dining room, leaving Graham and Vivian standing in the wreckage of their gilded illusion.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The expansive dining room, usually filled with the sound of their self-congratulatory laughter, felt like a tomb.
“Graham...” Vivian whispered, her voice trembling for the first time. “What... what do we do?”
Graham grabbed his phone frantically, dialing his mother’s closest society friends, his former college fraternity brothers, and the bankers who used to bow when he walked into a room.
Call after call went straight to voicemail, or worse, was picked up only to be met with cold rejections. Word travels fast in Chicago. Within thirty minutes of the asset freeze, the city’s financial elite already knew the Harringtons were radioactive.
“They’re screening my calls,” Graham muttered, his face draining of all color as he stared at his dead phone screen. “Everyone... everyone is ignoring me.”
“Call your wife,” Vivian hissed desperately, clutching at Graham’s sleeve. “Evelyn! Call that designer girl you threw out last night. Maybe she has some money saved up from her little boutique. Tell her... tell her you’ll take her back!”
Graham froze. The memory of throwing me out into the snow, mocking my simple clothes, and telling me I was a charity case rushed back to him with brutal clarity.
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“I... I can’t call her, Mother,” Graham whispered, his voice cracking. “I told her she had no claim to anything. I treated her like absolute dirt.”
“Pride is a luxury for people with bank accounts, Graham!” Vivian shrieked, tears of rage springing to her eyes. “Find her! Fix this!”
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