Chapter 2 - The House of Cards
The executive boardroom of Hayes Enterprises was silent.
Richard sat at the head of the mahogany table, but he looked smaller than he ever had. The air-conditioning hummed, but sweat was dripping down his temples, ruining his tailored collar.
Across from him sat Marcus Vance, the Chief Financial Officer who had been with the company for fifteen years. Marcus was not looking at Richard. He was looking at a tablet, his fingers flying across the screen as red lines on the graphs plummeted like stones thrown off a cliff.
"Explain it to me again, Marcus," Richard growled, trying to summon his usual terrifying boardroom presence. "And do it without sounding like a coward. We are a billion-dollar company. We have physical assets. We have the Hudson Yards development. We have the European logistics contracts. One woman signing a divorce paper doesn't change our balance sheet!"
Marcus slowly raised his head. He looked exhausted, older, and deeply terrified.
"Richard, you don't understand," Marcus said, his voice barely a whisper. "We don't own the Hudson Yards land."
"What do you mean we don't own it? We bought the development rights in 2018!"
"We bought the development rights, yes," Marcus explained, pulling up a document on the main screen. "But the underlying land—the actual earth beneath the concrete—is owned by a land-preservation trust called Greenway Estates LLC. We have a ninety-nine-year land lease. And do you know who owns Greenway Estates?"
Richard stared at the screen. The parent company listed was Carter Global.
"Every single one of our flagship properties is built on land leased from various Carter subsidiaries," Marcus said, his voice cracking. "And that's not the worst of it. The covenants on our five hundred million dollar credit line with Deutsche Bank... there's a clause."
"A clause? What clause?" Margaret Hayes, who had insisted on sitting in on the emergency meeting, demanded from the corner of his office. "My son is the face of this company! The banks love him!"
"The banks loved his stability, Margaret," Marcus snapped, losing his usual deferential tone. "Clause 14-B of the credit agreement states that the credit line is contingent upon the continued involvement of the 'Key Family Strategist.' For twenty years, we listed Evelyn Marie Hayes—now Evelyn Carter—as that strategist. The bank didn't underwrite Richard's ego. They underwrote Evelyn's family's sovereign guarantee. Now that she has officially restored her maiden name and divorced Richard, the bank has declared a technical default."
"A default?!" Richard stood up, knocking his chair backward. "They can't do that! I'll sue them!"
"They already did it, Richard," Marcus said quietly. "They frozen our operating accounts twenty minutes ago. We can't pay our contractors on the Hudson project. We can't pay our PR firm. By tomorrow morning, if we don't post three hundred million dollars in collateral, the banks will initiate foreclosure proceedings on our entire portfolio."
Just then, the double doors of the boardroom swung open.
Lauren walked in, her face red, her eyes puffy from crying. She was no longer wearing her elegant cream coat. She looked frantic, holding a stack of papers.
"Richard! What is going on?" she cried, ignoring the board members. "My credit cards... they were declined at the jewelry store! And the penthouse... the building manager just told me we have to vacate by the end of the week because the lease is in Evelyn's name!"
"Not now, Lauren!" Richard yelled, slamming his hand on the table. "I am trying to save my life!"
"Your life?" Lauren shrieked. "What about our baby? What about the life you promised me? You told me she was getting nothing! You told me she was leaving with her tail between her legs!"
Margaret stood up, her eyes glaring at Lauren with sudden, venomous disgust. "Be quiet, you foolish girl! If you hadn't gotten yourself pregnant and forced this ridiculous, public spectacle, we wouldn't be in this position! Richard had a quiet, obedient wife who kept our secrets, and you ruined it!"
"Obedient?"
A voice echoed from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
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Standing there was Diane Foster, Evelyn’s attorney. But she wasn't alone. Behind her were four men in dark suits carrying leather briefcases, and two federal marshals.
"Actually, Mrs. Hayes," Diane said, stepping into the room with a cold, professional smile. "Evelyn was never obedient. She was just incredibly patient."
