Chapter 5 - The Tower on Wilshire
The headquarters of Crestmont Global Holdings occupied the top twelve floors of a glass-and-steel skyscraper on Wilshire Boulevard.
It was eight-fifteen on Wednesday morning.
The lobby was a cathedral of white marble, brushed bronze, and forty-foot glass panels overlooking a private reflecting pool. Security guards in tailored black uniforms stood at four separate turnstiles, checking digital badges with quiet, practiced efficiency.
An executive elevator ascended silently to the 48th floor.
The door slid open with a soft chime.
Adrian Shaw stepped out onto the thick charcoal carpet of the executive suite.
He was no longer wearing his worn jeans or his grey tweed jacket. He wore a bespoke three-piece charcoal suit cut from Italian wool, a crisp white shirt with custom silver cufflinks, and a dark navy silk tie held in place by a plain platinum bar. His dark brown hair was styled neatly back from his forehead, and on his left wrist sat a dark platinum Patek Philippe watch worth more than Emily’s Honda Civic.
"Good morning, Mr. Shaw," a sharp, fifty-ish woman with graying hair said, stepping out from behind a massive walnut reception desk.
"Morning, Clara," Adrian said, walking toward the double oak doors at the end of the private corridor. "Has the board arrived for the nine o'clock briefing?"
"The directors are in Conference Room A," Clara said, falling into step behind him with an iPad in her hands. "Your uncle, Marcus, arrived twenty minutes ago. He's brought three senior partners from Latham & Watkins with him."
Adrian slowed his pace slightly, a cold smile touching his lips.
"Marcus brought lawyers?"
"He brought a full legal team," Clara confirmed. "They have a motion to invoke Section 4B of your grandfather's trust agreement. They intend to argue that since you remain unmarried as of thirty days prior to your thirty-third birthday, your voting control of Crestmont Global transfers automatically to the executive committee."
Adrian reached the double doors of his private office, pushed them open, and walked inside.
The CEO's office at Crestmont Global was massive.
Floor-to-ceiling glass wrapped around three sides of the room, offering a panoramic view of the Los Angeles basin stretching all the way to the Pacific Ocean. A massive desk carved from a single block of dark petrified wood sat in the center of the room, completely bare except for a thin glass terminal and a silver pen holder.
Behind the desk sat a heavy leather armchair.
"Has Valerie Carter pulled the county marriage registry yet?" Adrian asked, dropping his leather briefcase onto the couch near the glass wall.
Clara checked her iPad screen.
"Her attorneys pulled the index four minutes ago from the Los Angeles County Clerk's database," Clara reported. "They are currently attempting to run a financial trace on your alias account."
"And?"
"They've hit the firewall at First Pasadena Bank," Clara said with a dry chuckle. "According to their search results, you earn eighty-two thousand dollars a year as an junior accountant for a tax preparation firm."
Adrian sat down behind the petrified wood desk and leaned back in the leather chair.
"Good," Adrian said quietly. "Let Valerie Carter think her stepdaughter married a clerk. What about Julian Vance?"
Clara’s expression hardened instantly.
"Vance Logistics filed for an emergency credit line expansion with our commercial lending division at seven-thirty this morning," she said. "Julian Vance personally guaranteed the loan against his company's real estate holdings in Long Beach."
"Deny it," Adrian said flatly.
Clara blinked. "Deny the entire line?"
"Deny it immediately," Adrian said, his grey eyes turning to ice. "And call our acquisitions team. I want a complete short-position analysis on Vance Logistics on my desk by noon."
"Yes, Mr. Shaw," Clara said, making a quick note on her tablet. She paused at the door, looking back at him. "And... the new Mrs. Shaw?"
Adrian’s face softened by a fraction of a millimeter.
"She's at the apartment," he said softly. "She thinks I do paperwork for a small tax firm."
May you like
Clara smiled faintly. "How long do you expect to keep that up, sir?"
"Until I clean up Carter Textiles," Adrian said, turning his head to look out at the city below. "And until Emily realizes she didn't marry a stranger."
