Chapter 5 - The Contract Collapses
Ryan’s head snapped toward me, his breathing ragged and uneven. He stared past me into the hollow, echoing interior of the warehouse.
Where there had once been forty thousand dollars worth of fresh produce, prime cuts of meat, imported cheeses, custom wine glasses, and state-of-the-art mobile kitchens, there was now nothing but bare concrete floors and dust bunnies.
"Where is the food for the Vance wedding?" Ryan gasped, his voice suddenly cracking, losing all its aggressive venom. "Where are the ovens? Where are the delivery vans? We have thirty servers arriving here at noon to pack the trucks!"
"The food order was canceled at 5:00 PM yesterday," I replied smoothly, pulling a crisp stack of legal documents from Julian’s briefcase. "Since the vendor credit line was guaranteed under my name, I revoked authorization. Sysco and US Foods canceled the deliveries. The trucks have been repossessed by MSE Holdings LLC. The lease on this warehouse has been terminated, and the locks have just been changed."
Diane Mercer let out a loud, strangled gasp, clutching her throat as she stumbled forward on her high heels. "You... you evil, spiteful monster! You canceled the Vance order?! Do you have any idea who Senator Vance is?! He will ruin us! He will have Ryan’s license revoked! We will be sued into the street!"
"That sounds like a terrible problem for Mercer Southern Events," I said, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe. "Fortunately, I am no longer an employee, partner, or financial guarantor of your family business."
Ryan lunged forward again, his hands reaching toward me. "Give me the keys to the vans, Emma! Give them to me right now! We paid for those!"
"You didn't pay for a single bolt on those trucks, Ryan," Julian Vance stepped forward, thrusting a legal notice directly into Ryan’s chest. "My name is Julian Vance. I am representing your wife in her divorce proceedings and asset recovery actions. This is an emergency injunction issued by the Fayette County Circuit Court. You are formally prohibited from touching, moving, or interfering with any physical or digital assets belonging to MSE Holdings LLC."
Ryan looked down at the court-stamped papers in his hands, his fingers shaking violently. "Julian Vance? Are you... are you related to Senator Vance?"
Julian smiled thinly, a sharp, predatory look in his eyes. "Senator Vance is my father’s first cousin, Ryan. And I personally called his daughter, the bride, two hours ago to inform her that Mercer Southern Events no longer possesses the operational equipment, staff, or vendor contracts required to fulfill her wedding reception tomorrow."
The entire world seemed to stop moving for Ryan Mercer.
His face turned a sickening, pale shade of ash gray. His knees visibly buckled beneath him, and he had to reach out to grip the side of his silver SUV to keep from collapsing onto the gravel.
"You... you told the bride?" Ryan whispered, his voice trembling in absolute horror. "Julian, please... tell me you’re joking. Please. We can fix this! We can rent some trucks! We can buy food at the local grocery store!"
"Fix it with what?" I asked, stepping closer to him. "With what money, Ryan? Your business bank account currently has a balance of four hundred and twelve dollars. The ninety thousand dollars you thought was in that account was swept into an escrow holding file this morning under a court-ordered marital asset freeze."
"You ruined us," Diane whimpered, tears smearing her heavy eyeliner as she looked at her pale, shivering son. "You ruined my family... over a little disagreement at a birthday party?"
I stopped directly in front of Ryan and Diane. I leaned in close, looking my mother-in-law straight in her tear-filled eyes.
"It wasn't over a disagreement, Diane," I said, my voice low and unwavering. "It was because your daughter slapped me across the face for serving lunch eleven minutes late, and your son told me to get on my knees like a dog. You thought I was a servant you could abuse and throw away."
I pointed toward the corner of the empty warehouse.
"There is your family legacy sitting in the corner," I said. "Those three dented stockpots and that rusted trailer. Good luck catering a three-hundred-person wedding with them tomorrow morning."
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I turned my back on them, opened the passenger door of Julian’s sedan, and stepped inside.
As Julian pulled out of the driveway, I looked through the side mirror. Ryan was sitting on his knees in the wet gravel of the warehouse driveway, his head in his hands, while his mother stood over him, screaming uncontrollably into her cell phone.
