Chapter 4 - The Lockout
The rain started falling over midtown Manhattan just as Trent’s black Mercedes pulled up to the curb outside the glass-fronted media studio on 5th Avenue. I watched from the tinted back window of my town car parked across the street.
Trent stepped out, holding an umbrella over Brielle. He was wearing his tailored designer suit, projecting the confident image of a rising tech mogul. But the facade shattered the moment he reached the revolving doors.
Two armed private security guards in dark tactical uniforms blocked the entrance. Behind the glass, heavy yellow tape crossed the turnstiles, and an official notice was taped to the door.
Trent slammed his hand against the glass. "What the hell is this?" he screamed at the guards. "I'm the CEO of this company! Let me through!"
The head of security didn't flinch. "Building management has revoked your access, Mr. Sterling. The primary leaseholder, Laurel Vance-Sterling's corporate entity, has terminated the sublease for material breach of contract and illegal encumbrance."
"This is an outrage!" Trent shouted, turning around as flashes began popping.
Three freelance photographers and a digital reporter from a prominent business blog—tipped off anonymously an hour earlier—were snapping furiously. Trent tried to shield his face, but Brielle was entirely unprepared. She ducked behind Trent, her designer heels slipping on the wet sidewalk.
"Mr. Sterling!" a reporter yelled. "Is it true First Horizon has launched an internal fraud investigation into your credit authorizations? Are media operations suspended indefinitely?"
"Get those cameras out of my face!" Trent lunged toward a photographer, but the security guard stepped down the stone steps, blocking his path.
"Mr. Sterling, you are trespassing on private property," the guard announced, loud enough for every camera microphone to catch it. "Depart the premises immediately, or the NYPD will be dispatched to remove you."
Brielle grabbed Trent's arm, her voice shrill with frantic humiliation. "Trent! Let's just go! Everyone is looking at us! Trent, do something!"
May you like
Trent looked up, his furious gaze scanning the street until he locked eyes with the tinted glass of my town car. He knew I was inside. He knew the woman he had dismissed as a boring, aging financier had just pulled the plug on his entire existence.
I tapped the driver's partition. "Let's go, Marcus. We have a board meeting."
