Chapter 6 - The Vanguard Counter-AttackBy noon, the shockwaves from the Carrington board meeting had already reached Wall Street and every major talent agency in Hollywood.
In a glass-walled penthouse suite across town, Arthur Vance—CEO of Vanguard Media and Grant’s secret co-conspirator—slammed his fist onto his mahogany desk so hard the crystal decanter rattled.
“What do you mean she seized the voting shares?!” Arthur roared at his chief legal counsel, a slick-haired man named Henderson who looked like he had run a marathon in a wool suit.
“It’s verified, Mr. Vance,” Henderson said, pushing his glasses up his sweating nose. “The Theodore Carrington Trust has an airtight contingency clause dating back to 2011. If the primary heir engages in financial misconduct or moral turpitude that threatens corporate solvency, voting control automatically transfers to the designated secondary trustee. And that secondary trustee... is Lily Carrington.”
Arthur’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “She’s eight months pregnant! She’s a housewife who spent her time organizing charity luncheons! How did she outmaneuver us?”
“She didn't just outmaneuver us, sir,” Henderson said grimly. “She’s already moving on our commercial real estate portfolio in downtown LA. Our bank debt is coming due next month, and according to my contacts at the federal reserve, Carrington Global just bought up fifty-one percent of our syndicated credit lines.”
Arthur went pale. “They what?”
“They own our debt, Mr. Vance,” Henderson whispered. “If Lily Carrington calls in those notes before the bell closes on Friday, Vanguard Media will be forced into immediate bankruptcy receivership.”
Before Arthur could formulate a response, his office door burst open.
Grant Carrington stood in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his navy suit wrinkled from sleeping in a mid-grade hotel room near the airport, his hair unbrushed, his eyes wild and desperate.
“Arthur! You have to help me!” Grant cried, stumbling into the room. “My father has completely lost his mind! They locked me out of the building! They froze my accounts! I don’t even have access to my car!”
Arthur slowly stood up from his desk, his expression venomous. He walked over to Grant, stopped two inches away, and delivered a backhanded slap that sent Grant stumbling sideways against the leather sofa.
“You arrogant, incompetent idiot,” Arthur hissed, grabbing Grant by the lapel. “You told me the family trust was locked down! You told me your wife was harmless! You just handed the most powerful media empire on the West Coast to a woman you spent six months publicly humiliating!”
Grant held his stinging cheek, terror overriding his anger. “What are we going to do? We still have the Vanguard distribution contract! We can sue them for breach of contract!”
May you like
Arthur let out a harsh, barking laugh, shoving Grant away so hard he fell onto the sofa cushions.
“Sue them?” Arthur sneered, walking back to his desk and looking out the window toward the towering silhouette of Carrington Studios in the distance. “Grant, your wife doesn't just own the studio anymore. She just bought our debt. By tomorrow morning, she won't just be suing us—she’ll be evicting us from this very building.”
