Chapter 6 - The Bank Calls
At 11:30 AM on Friday, my private phone finally rang with a number I actually intended to answer.
"Claire Vance speaking."
"Claire, thank God you picked up," said Marcus Vance—not a relative, but Marcus Hayes, Senior Vice President of Commercial Lending at Chase. He had been my contact for six years.
"Good morning, Marcus. Happy Thanksgiving."
"I wish it were happier," Marcus sighed heavily, the rustle of loan documents audible in the background. "Daniel has been down at our regional branch since eight o’clock this morning. He made a massive scene in the lobby. He was trying to authorize a temporary two-million-dollar extension on Vance Logistics' revolver line."
"I assume you informed him that the credit facility requires joint authorization?"
"Of course," Marcus said. "I explained the covenants to him. But then he claimed that as CEO, his signature supercedes yours. I had to personally pull the 2019 underwriting contract and read section 14-B to him. The one where your personal family trust is named as the primary liquid guarantor."
"And what did Daniel say?"
"He went completely white, Claire. He kept repeating, 'That’s my money. She just signed the paperwork.' I had to remind him that your trust funds were deposited directly into our collateral escrow account before his firm was even eligible for tier-one corporate borrowing."
I leaned back against the plush pillows of my king-sized hotel bed. "I’ve officially filed for legal separation, Marcus. My attorney sent the formal notification to your legal department two hours ago. As of noon today, my personal assets are frozen as collateral for any new credit extensions."
Marcus whistled softly. "Claire... if you pull the guarantee, his operating ratio drops below the statutory minimum. The automated risk protocol will trigger an immediate margin freeze on his vendor payroll."
"Then Daniel will have to find another guarantor," I said coldly. "Perhaps his VP of Marketing would like to put up her condo."
Marcus chuckled dryly. "I doubt that will cover thirty-eight million in commercial freight exposure. Daniel doesn't know how deep the water is, does he?"
"No, Marcus. He’s spent seven years standing on my shoulders, convincing himself he could fly."
"Understood, Claire. We will follow your instructions to the letter. Take care of yourself."
May you like
I ended the call. Daniel’s illusion was fracturing faster than I had anticipated. When you strip away the polished website, the expensive bespoke suits, and the PR articles, a business is nothing more than cash flow and promises.
And Daniel had just broken the only promise that mattered.
