Chapter 3 - The Destruction of Hargrove
By two o'clock in the morning, the rain had settled into a steady drizzle over Michigan Avenue.
Inside the executive boardroom of Hargrove Enterprises, Preston Hargrove sat alone at the long glass table, sweating through his expensive dress shirt.
Three high-powered corporate lawyers sat across from him, opening thick black leather binders.
Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city was Gabriel Vance.
“Mr. Vance, please,” Preston begged, his voice raspy and desperate. “It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t know she was connected to you! I didn’t know she was carrying your child!”
Gabriel turned around slowly, taking a seat at the head of the boardroom table.
“You didn’t know she was a human being either, Preston,” Gabriel said calmly.
Gabriel’s lead attorney slid a single piece of paper across the table.
“What is this?” Preston asked, his hands trembling as he picked up the document.
“That is the immediate foreclosure notice for Hargrove Grand Hotel, the Hargrove Tower on Wacker Drive, and your personal residence in Lake Forest,” the attorney stated smoothly. “Vance Capital held sixty percent of your commercial mortgages. As of twenty minutes ago, we exercised the default acceleration clause due to your violation of corporate ethics and felony assault charges.”
Preston’s eyes widened in sheer horror. “Default?! You can’t do this! I have three thousand employees!”
“Your employees will keep their jobs under new management,” Gabriel said cold as ice. “You, however, are bankrupt.”
Before Preston could speak, the double doors of the boardroom swung open.
Four detectives from the Chicago Police Department walked in, followed by the Assistant District Attorney.
“Preston Hargrove?” the lead detective announced.
Preston stood up, backing away toward the window. “What is the meaning of this?!”
“You are under arrest for felony assault, reckless endangerment of a pregnant woman, and corporate fraud stemming from your offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands,” the detective said, pulling out a pair of steel handcuffs.
Preston turned his head wildly toward Gabriel. “Gabriel! Please! We’ve done business for ten years!”
Gabriel picked up his pen, signing the foreclosure transfer document without looking up.
“Ten years ago, Preston,” Gabriel said quietly, “you were a man who owned hotels. Tonight, you are just a criminal going to prison.”
The detectives grabbed Preston’s arms, forcing his hands behind his back and snapping the cuffs onto his wrists.
As Preston was dragged out of the boardroom screaming for his lawyers, Gabriel stood up, walking toward the window.
He looked down at his watch.
2:45 AM.
May you like
He pulled out his phone and dialed his private assistant.
“Prepare the penthouse suite at the Four Seasons,” Gabriel ordered. “And transfer fifty million dollars into a blind trust under the name Mara Ellis.”
