Chapter 2 - THE MORNING AFTER THE ILLUSIONThe morning sun over Lake Forest usually brought a sense of absolute dominion to the Holloway household. From the second-floor master suite, Grant Holloway stood in a bespoke silk robe, a cup of imported Blue Mountain coffee in his hand, looking down at the empty driveway.
His divorce was final. His legal obligations to the quiet woman who had served as his decorative appendage for nearly a decade were settled for pennies.
"She didn't even take the antique clock from the guest room," Vanessa murmured, sliding her arms around Grant's waist from behind. She wore an ivory silk robe that matched the aesthetic of a house she was already planning to redecorate. "Honestly, Grant, her lack of ambition was exhausting. How you lived with her for nine years is a testament to your saintly patience."
Grant smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. A strange, phantom itch prickled at the back of his mind—something about the way Claire had signed the papers. Mercer. Not Holloway.
It was a sentimental tic of a woman who couldn't let go of her pedigree. Nothing more.
"She was useful for the board dinners," Grant said dismissively, turning to kiss Vanessa’s forehead. "Old money likes old names, even if the bank accounts are bone dry. But she’s out. And today, we announce the merger with Vanguard Shipping. Once that contract locks in, Holloway Industries controls fifty percent of the Midwest freight corridor."
Downstairs, the heavy mahogany doors of the study flew open.
A crash echoed through the high-ceilinged foyer, followed by the frantic, breathless voice of Arthur Vance, the Chief Financial Officer of Holloway Industries.
"Grant!" Vance shouted, ignoring protocol as he bounded up the curved staircase, his face the color of spoiled milk. "Grant, where the hell are you?"
Grant stepped out of the master suite, annoyed by the breach of decorum. "Arthur, control yourself. What is the meaning of this?"
Vance didn't care about decorum. He shoved a crumpled financial ticker printout into Grant's chest, his hands trembling violently.
"The Vanguard merger," Vance choked out, gasping for air. "It's dead. Every single share of our primary logistics network... it’s gone."
Grant frowned, brushing the paper away. "Gone? What are you talking about? I spoke to the Vanguard board yesterday. We have a verbal agreement."
May you like
"We had a verbal agreement with a holding company called Mercer Capital," Vance screamed, his voice cracking with panic. "They bought out our primary debt at midnight. They hold the notes on our warehouses, our transport fleets, and our revolving credit lines. Grant... we don't own Holloway Industries anymore. Someone else does."
Grant’s coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the imported Italian marble tile at his feet, dark liquid spreading like a stain across the white floor.
