Chapter 7 - The Dominoes Fall
Within four hours of my departure from the St. Regis, the Harrison name ceased to exist as a viable corporate entity.
The financial news networks ran the story on an endless loop throughout the night:
*HARRISON LOGISTICS FACES IMMEDIATE RECEIVERSHIP.*
*VANCE CAPITAL RECLAIMS $250M IN DEFAULTED BONDS.*
*FORMER BLUE-BLOOD DYNASTY CRUMBLES AMID FRAUD ALLEGATIONS.*
I sat in the penthouse office of Vance Tower at sunrise, looking out over Lake Michigan. A mug of hot chamomile tea sat untouched on my desk.
Dominic entered without knocking, tossing the morning edition of the *Tribune* onto the glass table. The front page featured a candid photograph of Marcus being escorted out of his corporate headquarters by federal marshals, shielding his face with a crumpled jacket.
"Richard Harrison suffered a mild cardiac event at two in the morning," Dominic reported, taking a seat opposite me. "He’s stable at Northwestern Memorial under police guard. Victoria is currently holed up in their Lake Forest estate, refusing to speak to reporters. She tried to transfer four million dollars from her charity foundation to an offshore account in Belize at dawn."
"Did she succeed?" I asked.
"Our forensic accounting team flagged the transaction within forty seconds. The Department of Justice froze the foundation’s assets. She’s looking at twenty years for wire fraud and embezzlement of charitable funds."
I leaned back, feeling the quiet kick of life beneath my ribs. It was an unmistakable flutter—a tiny reminder that my future was growing, vibrant and unburdened by the rot of the Harrison legacy.
"And Ashley?"
"Arrested at O'Hare at 4:30 AM trying to board a flight to Bogota," Dominic said with a faint sneer. "She had three stolen Harrison family heirlooms in her carry-on, including Marcus’s grandmother’s diamond brooch. Marcus filed criminal grand larceny charges against her from the precinct holding cell."
"Poetic," I said. "Two hyenas turning on each other the moment the carcass runs out of meat."
"What about Marcus?" Dominic asked, studying my face carefully. "His personal assets are wiped out, but he hasn't been charged with a federal crime yet. His name is toxic, but he is technically free."
"Marcus will come to me," I replied calmly. "Narcissists always believe they can renegotiate reality. He thinks this is just an extreme marital dispute. He thinks that because he was once handsome and charming, he can charm his way back into a fortune."
"Are you going to see him?"
"Yes," I stood up, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I want him to see everything he lost. Not the money, Dominic. The family he threw away."
Right on cue, the intercom on my desk chimed.
My executive assistant’s voice came through, crisp and polite: "Ms. Vance, there is a Mr. Marcus Harrison in the lobby downstairs. He doesn't have an appointment, but he is refusing to leave until he speaks with you. Security is asking if they should remove him."
May you like
I pressed the button. "Send him up to the seventy-second floor, Sarah. And make sure he doesn't have an umbrella. It’s raining outside, and I prefer him damp."
***
