Chapter 3 - The Rat Leaves the Sinking ShipThe rain outside had turned into a torrential downpour, pelting the tall arched windows of the Charlotte courthouse like buckshot.
In the hallway outside Courtroom 4B, the press had formed a dense, suffocating wall of microphones, cameras, and shouting anchors. When the heavy oak doors swung open, the flashes ignited like a string of firecrackers.
"Mr. Sloan! Is it true your wife is Judge Mercer’s daughter?"
"Mr. Sloan, did you commit corporate fraud?"
"Savannah! Savannah Cole, is Sloan Urban Systems facing a federal asset freeze?"
Derek pushed through the throng, his tie loosened, his expensive hair plastered to his forehead by sweat and humidity. He scanned the crowd for Savannah, expecting her to be right behind him with his communications handbook and his umbrella.
She wasn't there.
Derek pushed past a local news reporter and sprinted toward the private elevators reserved for court officials and high-profile litigants.
The elevator doors were just sliding shut.
Through the narrow gap, Derek saw Savannah standing inside, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. She was pressing the button for the underground parking garage.
"Savannah!" Derek yelled, lunging forward and jamming his hand between the closing steel panels. The safety sensor tripped, and the doors slid back open with a pneumatic hiss.
Savannah didn't look relieved. She looked terrified.
"Get out," she said coldly, pressing her back against the mirrored wall of the car.
"What are you doing?" Derek gasped, stepping inside and letting the doors close behind him. "Where are you going? We need to call a press conference. We need to spin this before the market opens tomorrow—"
"There is no market for us anymore, Derek," Savannah interrupted, her voice shaking with adrenaline. "Do you have any idea what happens when a federal judge’s daughter exposes a corporate shell game? The SEC already has an automated flag on our corporate tax IDs. My name is on every single asset transfer from the last three years."
"You're my communications director! We're a team—"
"I was your employee!" Savannah snapped, her voice finally cracking into a shrill shriek. "And you just assaulted your wife in front of her father—who happens to control every criminal docket in this state! I am resigning effective five minutes ago. My lawyer has already contacted the U.S. Attorney’s office to offer full cooperation regarding your offshore accounts in the Caymans."
Derek stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"You... you're turning on me?"
"I'm saving myself," Savannah said bitterly as the elevator dinged and the doors opened to the subterranean parking garage.
The fluorescent lights of the garage flickered against the concrete pillars. Rainwater was pooling in large puddles near the exit ramps.
Savannah didn't wait for Derek. She bolted out of the elevator, her heels clicking frantically against the concrete as she ran toward her white Mercedes SUV parked in slot 42.
Derek stumbled out after her, the cold damp air hitting his face.
"Savannah! Wait! You can't leave me here! My car is up front—the keys are with the valet—"
She didn't even look back. She hit the unlock button on her key fob, the Mercedes lights flashing twice in the dim garage. She yanked the driver’s side door open, threw her briefcase onto the passenger seat, and climbed inside.
The engine roared to life.
Derek sprinted across the oil-stained pavement, lunging toward the driver's side window just as she shifted into reverse.
"Savannah, open the door! We have millions in the—"
She hit the gas.
The SUV leaped backward, its tires spinning in a puddle of rainwater before catching traction. The open door clipped Derek’s shoulder, spinning him around and sending him crashing hard onto the wet concrete.
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He groaned, clutching his bruised shoulder as he watched the white taillights of the Mercedes disappear up the ramp into the blinding Charlotte rain.
He was alone.
