Chapter 3 - THE DEMOLITION OF A CAREERThe world seemed to tilt on its axis for Grant Holloway.
Director Vance—the man who treated junior executives like disposable napkins, the man who had humiliated Grant at corporate galas for minor spreadsheet errors—was standing at attention, bowing his head to Elena.
"Vance?" Grant choked out, his voice a pathetic squeak. "Director Vance, what are you... why are you bowing to her? She’s... she’s just my wife! Well, my soon-to-be ex-wife! She doesn't know anything about finance!"
Director Vance slowly turned his head, his expression shifting from respectful deference to absolute, freezing contempt as he looked at Grant.
"Your wife, Holloway?" Vance said, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous rumble. "You stood in a public terminal and revoked the transit privileges of the principal shareholder of our parent holding company? Are you clinically insane, or simply suicidal?"
Grant stumbled backward, colliding with a plastic waiting chair. "Parent holding company? What are you talking about? Crestline doesn't own Holloway-Vance—"
"Crestline acquired our controlling interest seventy-two hours ago," Vance interrupted, pulling a thick leather portfolio from his breast pocket. He didn't even look at Grant as he opened it. "We were scheduled to announce the merger next Monday. The ultimate decision-making power for every asset, every subsidiary, and every executive appointment in our firm rests entirely in the hands of the Chairwoman of Crestline."
Vance turned back to Elena, his hands folded neatly in front of him. "Madam Chairwoman, your standing instructions regarding executive misconduct?"
Elena didn't look at Grant. She kept her eyes fixed on the blank departure screen above them.
"Terminate his employment," Elena said flatly. "Strip him of his stock options, freeze his corporate credit lines, and audit every expense report he has submitted over the last five years. If there is a single cent of company funds spent on personal luxuries—or mistresses—file criminal charges by morning."
"Consider it done," Vance replied crisply.
"No! No, you can't do that!" Grant screamed, lunging forward, his professional composure completely shattering. He grabbed at the lapel of Vance’s suit, desperate. "Vance, you know me! I built the Asia-Pacific portfolio! I brought in the Meridian account! You can't fire me over a domestic dispute!"
Vance reached up, calmly unhooking Grant’s fingers from his jacket and dusting off his lapel as if flicking away a piece of lint.
"You didn't just insult a passenger, Holloway," Vance said coldly. "You insulted the woman who signs my paycheck, funds my retirement, and owns the roof over your head. Security!"
Within three seconds, two massive airport police officers materialized from the restricted corridor behind the gate.
"Get him out of my sight," Elena said, her voice devoid of any warmth or hesitation. "And remove his family as well."
"Wait! Elena, please!" Madison shrieked, dropping her designer handbag as one of the guards stepped toward her. "This is a mistake! I’m not even involved! I’m just a consultant—"
"You're an expensive accessory on a sinking ship," Elena replied, finally turning her gaze to Madison. "Enjoy the bus ride to Chicago."
Patricia Holloway looked like she was about to have a stroke. Her face mottled into a furious, blotchy red. "You ungrateful, low-class little bitch! You are nothing without this family! You came from a gutter in Columbus, and you'll die in one!"
"Mama, shut up, just shut up!" Nolan whimpered, his phone finally slipping from his trembling fingers, clattering onto the floor where the screen shattered into a spiderweb of light. He tried to shield his face as the officers grabbed his arms.
Grant was dragged backward across the polished linoleum, his expensive leather shoes scraping against the floor, his eyes wide with a mix of terror, betrayal, and dawning horror.
"Elena!" Grant screamed as he was hauled toward the exit doors. "ELENA! WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS! WE'RE MARRIED!"
"Not anymore, Grant," Elena whispered to the empty air.
As the double doors swung shut behind the disgraced Holloway family, the terminal returned to a strange, hushed stillness.
Director Vance bowed once more. "How shall we proceed with the rest of your evening, Madam Chairwoman? Your private jet is fueled and waiting on the tarmac whenever you wish to return to Zurich."
Elena looked down at the floor. The tarnish-covered silver pendant—Stand. Don't crawl.—was still lying there where she had dropped it.
May you like
She bent down, picked it up, and rubbed the cool metal between her thumb and forefinger.
"Not Zurich, Director Vance," Elena said softly, a dangerous, beautiful smile touching the corners of her lips. "Take me to Columbus. It's time to buy the neighborhood where I grew up."
