Chapter 8 - The Liquidation
Thomas stepped around the bed and reached into his chore jacket, pulling out a manila file folder far thinner than the one Vanessa had brought, but infinitely heavier in consequence.
He tossed it onto Grant’s chest. Grant caught it instinctively.
“Open it,” Thomas said.
Grant opened the cover. His eyes scanned the first page, and the color drained from his skin until he looked like a corpse standing under the fluorescent lights.
“This... this is the Master Intellectual Property Registry for the Apex Valve System,” Grant stammered, his fingers trembling. “This was patented by Mercer Dynamics in twenty-eighteen.”
“No,” Thomas corrected, his voice as steady as an iron beam. “It was licensed to Mercer Dynamics by Vance Precision on a five-year renewable term. Clause Twelve, Sub-section B: *In the event of intentional endangerment or unresolvable breach of family fiduciary duty by the licensee’s executive officers, all patents revert instantly to the founding inventor.*”
“You can’t enforce this,” Grant gasped, turning the pages frantically. “This is boilerplate! No judge would uphold a morality clause in an IP transfer!”
“They would if the breach includes attempted homicide caught on eight separate four-K security cameras in a hospital room,” a new voice spoke from the doorway.
A tall, silver-haired man in a charcoal suit walked in, carrying a leather briefcase. Behind him were two uniformed Chicago police detectives and an investigator from the state Attorney General’s Special Financial Crimes Division.
“Good evening, Grant,” said Arthur Pendelton, senior partner of Pendelton & Cross—the most feared corporate litigator in the Midwest. “Your mistress was surprisingly talkative once the detectives explained the difference between a state prison sentence and a federal penitentiary. It turns out she kept a rather meticulous digital ledger of every wire transfer you authorized out of the Mercer operational accounts into her private shell corporations in Belize.”
“She... she’s lying,” Grant whispered, stepping back until his spine hit the doorframe. “She’s trying to save herself!”
“She handed over her phone, Grant,” Detective Miller said, stepping forward with a pair of steel cuffs hanging from his belt. “She showed us the voice memos you sent her at five-fifteen this afternoon. The ones where you told her to ‘make sure the paperwork gets signed by any means necessary, because dead or signed, Natalie isn't leaving that floor with my equity.’”
Natalie closed her eyes, a shudder running through her core. Even knowing the depths of Grant’s coldness, hearing the actual words spoken aloud was like an ice pick through her ribs.
Thomas reached out and gently laid a hand on Natalie’s shoulder, anchoring her.
“You wanted to talk about market cap, Grant,” Thomas said quietly. “As of ten minutes ago, the board convened an emergency midnight session via teleconference. With seventy-one percent of the voting shares held by Vance Global Trust, they voted unanimously to remove you as Chief Executive Officer, Chairman of the Board, and President of Mercer Dynamics. Effective immediately.”
“You can’t do that!” Grant screamed, his voice cracking into hysteria. “I built this! My name is on the building!”
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“By eight o'clock tomorrow morning,” Thomas replied, “the signage comes down. The company will be renamed Vance-Mercer Technologies, held in a blind trust for your daughter. You won't even have a security badge to clean out your desk.”
***
