Chapter 8 - LIQUIDATION
By Tuesday morning at 9:01 AM, the financial news networks across the United States were in a frenzy.
CNBC BREAKING NEWS: ELLISON CAPITAL DECLARED INSOLVENT FOLLOWING HISTORIC MARGIN CALL BY VALE MERIDIAN.
BLOOMBERG: FORMER BILLIONAIRE GRANT ELLISON ACCUSED OF CORPORATE ASSET STRIPPING; ASSETS SEIZED BY VALE MERIDIAN CHAIRWOMAN EMILY CARTER.
Outside Ellison Tower on Michigan Avenue, dozens of news vans, reporters, and photographers filled the plaza.
Federal marshals and private liquidation teams from Vale Meridian walked through the glass doors, carrying box after box of files, servers, and executive furniture.
Inside the top-floor corner office that had once belonged to Grant Ellison, the room was being completely gutted.
Grant sat on the floor against the bare wall, wearing a wrinkled suit, holding an empty glass of scotch. He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. His hair was matted, his eyes hollow and bloodshot.
The door opened, and Blair Whitmore stepped into the bare office, carrying a designer leather suitcase. She wore sunglasses and a trench coat.
Grant looked up at her through his bloodshot eyes, a flicker of desperate hope in his face. "Blair... did you talk to the secondary investors? Did they give us the extension?"
Blair stopped five feet away from him, looking down at him with absolute, cold disgust.
"There are no secondary investors, Grant," Blair said, her voice completely devoid of the warmth she had used when sipping his champagne four days ago. "The firm is dead. The SEC just froze my personal accounts because of my involvement in your off-balance-sheet transfers."
"We can start over..." Grant whimpered, reaching out his hand toward her. "I still have some offshore entities in Panama... we can take a flight today..."
Blair laughed—a harsh, bitter, ugly sound.
"Start over with you?" Blair spat. "You're a ruined, disgraced bankrupt facing federal fraud indictments. I only stayed with you because I thought you were going to control Vale Meridian."
She pulled her sunglasses down, glaring at him with pure hatred.
"You threw away a woman who owned a six-billion-dollar empire so you could buy me a cashmere robe," Blair sneered. "You are the dumbest man in Chicago."
She turned on her high heels, her suitcase wheels clicking sharply against the bare floorboards, and walked out of his life forever.
Grant buried his face in his dirty hands, weeping hysterically in the empty, hollow shell of his former empire.
At that exact moment, two federal agents from the Financial Crimes Division stepped into the office, holding an arrest warrant.
"Grant Ellison?" the lead agent asked.
Grant didn't even look up. "Yes..."
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"You are under arrest for grand corporate fraud, illegal asset hiding, and falsification of banking records," the agent stated, pulling out a pair of cold steel handcuffs. "You have the right to remain silent."
As the steel cuffs clicked tightly around Grant's wrists, he was led out through the glass lobby of his former building, surrounded by flashing news cameras, falling from the absolute peak of wealth to the bottom of federal custody in less than ninety-six hours.
