Chapter 4 - The Fall of Trevor Hayes
By 4:00 PM that same afternoon, Trevor Hayes was sitting in his corner office on the 40th floor of Hayes, Sterling & Partners, staring blankly at the floor. His wrist was swollen and wrapped in a makeshift bandage, throbbing with excruciating pain from where Roman Vance had crushed it.
Chloe had left him at the mall, hailing a cab by herself after screaming that he was a liability and that her father would call off the engagement immediately.
Trevor was trembling. He picked up his crystal glass of scotch, trying to take a sip, but his hands shook so violently the liquid sloshed over the rim, staining his navy silk tie.
“It’s fine,” Trevor muttered to himself wildly, pacing behind his mahogany desk. “It’s fine. He was just trying to intimidate me. You can’t just buy a law firm in two hours. That’s not how the corporate world works. It takes months of regulatory approval, board meetings—”
The heavy oak door to his office suddenly slammed open.
Trevor jumped, spilling the rest of his scotch.
Managing Partner Richard Sterling stepped into the room. Behind him stood two armed private security officers clad in black uniforms. Sterling’s face was red, his collar unbuttoned, and his eyes wild with panic.
“Trevor,” Sterling breathed heavily. “What the hell did you do?”
“Richard!” Trevor gasped, taking a step forward. “Richard, listen to me. I was attacked at the mall! Some thug claiming to be Roman Vance put his hands on me—”
“It wasn't a claim, you absolute idiot!” Sterling roared, slamming a thick stack of legal documents down onto Trevor’s desk. “It was Roman Vance! Do you have any idea what just happened ten minutes ago?”
Trevor swallowed hard, his throat completely dry. “What... what happened?”
“The board received a emergency buyout notification at 3:15 PM,” Sterling said, his voice shaking with pure terror. “Vance Capital purchased eighty-five percent of our firm’s debt obligations from the bank. Then they executed a hostile takeover of our primary shares. By 3:45 PM, Vance Capital became the sole owner of Hayes, Sterling & Partners.”
Trevor’s knees buckled. He grabbed the edge of his desk for support. “No... no, that’s impossible... Richard, we’re a top-tier litigation firm!”
“We were a top-tier litigation firm!” Sterling yelled, tears of anger swelling in his eyes. “Five minutes ago, Vance’s legal team issued a corporate restructuring directive. The firm is being dissolved. Effective immediately. Every partner’s assets tied to the firm are frozen. Every case is being transferred to external counsel.”
Sterling stepped closer, grabbing Trevor by his lapels just as Roman had done hours earlier. “And do you know what the specific condition of the acquisition was, Trevor? Vance’s representatives gave us one singular mandate: Terminate Trevor Hayes immediately, disbar him for ethical violations, and seize his equity.”
“No... no!” Trevor screamed, terror tearing through his chest. “He can’t do this! I have rights! I’m a partner!”
“You are nothing!” Sterling spat, shoving Trevor back into his chair. “Security, clear out his desk. He has two minutes to leave the building.”
The two private security guards stepped forward, grabbing Trevor by his arms and hauling him out of his chair. They didn't even allow him to pick up his coat or his personal belongings. They dragged him through the glass-walled hallways of the firm where dozens of his former colleagues stood watching in shocked silence.
“Sadi...” Trevor sobbed as he was dragged toward the elevator banks, reality crashing over him like a tidal wave. “Sadi, please...”
He remembered the way she had looked at him in the boutique—cool, distant, untouchable. He had called her an anchor. He had called her trash. He had told her she belonged in the dirt.
Now, she was sitting in a palace, while he was being thrown into the gutter.
When the elevators opened at the ground floor, the security guards shoved Trevor out of the glass revolving doors and onto the cold pavement of the street. Rain had begun to fall, a steady, icy drizzle that soaked through his tailored suit within seconds.
Trevor fell to his knees on the wet sidewalk, his phone ringing violently in his pocket. He scrambled to pull it out with his swollen hand. The screen displayed a notification from his bank:
ALERT: Your primary checking and savings accounts have been frozen per court order pending financial audit.
A second notification flashed:
ALERT: Lease agreement for Property 402 has been terminated by building management. Locks replaced.
Trevor stared at the glowing screen, his lungs seizing up as he gasped for air in the rain. He had nothing left. No job, no money, no home, no fiancée. In less than three hours, Roman Vance had completely erased his existence from the city.
A sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb, idling silently in front of him. The rear window rolled down slowly, revealing Arthur sitting in the leather backseat.
Arthur looked down at Trevor with cold, indifferent eyes, tossing a small white sticky note out the window. It fluttered through the rain, landing on the wet pavement right in front of Trevor’s knees.
Trevor looked down at it.
On the note, written in neat, elegant penmanship, were five words:
May you like
Now you know your place.
The SUV window rolled up, and the vehicle accelerated away into the rainy twilight, leaving Trevor kneeling in the dirt, sobbing hysterically as the city moved on around him.
