Chapter 4 - The Scramble for Survival
Z
The Stamford offices of Cardenas Construction were in absolute, unadulterated chaos. Shredded paper covered the carpet like fake snow. Junior project managers were packing their personal belongings into cardboard boxes, while secretaries were crying into their phones, trying to figure out if their health insurance had already been canceled.
Inside the glass-walled executive office, Mason Cardenas was sweating through a five-thousand-dollar Tom Ford suit. His necktie was ripped open at the collar, his hair was wild, and his eyes were bloodshot.
He was furiously yanking hard drives out of the main server tower under his desk, shoving them into a leather duffel bag.
"Come on, come on, you piece of shit!" he cursed, yanking out another cable with such force that he snapped the plastic connector.
across the room, sitting on the edge of a leather sofa, was Chloe Lawson. She wasn't wearing her elegant red nightgown anymore. She was dressed in running shoes and an oversized trench coat, holding a heavy designer handbag that was bulging with cash and luxury jewelry.
"Mason, we need to go now!" Chloe shouted, her voice shrill with panic. "My lawyer called! He said the federal prosecutors are already reviewing the wire transfers you made to my offshore account in Belize! If they trace that money back to me, I’m facing accessory charges!"
"Shut up, Chloe!" Mason yelled back, dropping another hard drive into the bag. "I gave you two hundred thousand dollars! I bought you a Cartier watch! You don't get to run away when things get tight!"
"You lied to me!" Chloe shrieked, standing up and pointing a finger at him. "You told me your wife was a nobody! You told me she was a broke loser who depended on you for everything! You didn't tell me she owned the whole fucking sky, Mason! You didn't tell me she was Victoria Vance!"
"I didn't know!" Mason roared, slamming his fist onto his desk, shattering the glass top. "I didn't fucking know! She tricked me! She spent three years pretending to edit trashy romance novels for forty grand a year! How the hell was I supposed to know she was sitting on a hundred-million-dollar private equity fund?!"
"Because you're an arrogant idiot!" Chloe barked, her eyes cold with absolute disgust. "You were so busy sniffing your own throne that you didn't even check where the money for your contracts was coming from! I’m leaving!"
She turned toward the door, but Mason lunged across the room, grabbing her roughly by the wrist.
"You're not going anywhere!" Mason sneered, his grip tightening. "We're in this together, Chloe! If I go down, I’m taking you down with me! I have receipts for every single gift, every single trip, every single illegal transfer I made to your accounts! You think you can just walk away back to Manhattan?"
Chloe looked at his face—at the unhinged, violent desperation in his eyes—and realized she was trapped with a sinking ship. She panicked. Using her free hand, she swung her heavy leather handbag with all her strength, striking Mason directly across the side of his face.
The heavy metal buckle caught him right across the cheekbone. Mason let out a sharp cry of pain, staggering back and dropping to his knees as blood welled up from a deep cut under his eye.
Chloe didn't hesitate. She threw open the door and ran out into the chaotic hallway, her heels sliding on the scattered paper as she fled toward the stairwell.
Mason wiped the blood from his cheek with the sleeve of his expensive jacket, breathing heavily. "Bitch..." he growled, pulling himself up using the edge of the desk.
He grabbed his duffel bag full of hard drives, pulled a spare set of car keys from his drawer, and bolted out the private back exit toward the executive parking garage. He knew his Mercedes had been repossessed, but he still had the company pickup truck—an old, unregistered Ford F-150 he kept for site visits.
He threw the bag into the passenger seat, hopped behind the wheel, and cranked the engine. The V8 engine roared to life. He slammed the gear shift into reverse, backed out of the space violently, and sped toward the garage exit ramp.
As he burst out into the daylight of the street, three black SUVs pulled sharply across the roadway, forming an impenetrable metallic barricade.
Mason slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the asphalt, leaving thick black rubber marks, stopping just three inches from the front bumper of the lead SUV.
The doors of the black vehicles flew open.
Six state troopers in tactical gear stepped out, their sidearms drawn and aimed directly through Mason’s windshield. Behind them, a crisp silver sedan pulled up to the curb.
The back door of the sedan opened, and Robert Vance stepped out, holding a thick white legal folder.
"Mason Cardenas!" a trooper yelled through a bullhorn. "Turn off the engine, step out of the vehicle, and put your hands on your head! Do it now!"
Mason sat behind the wheel, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He looked at the guns pointed at him. He looked at Robert Vance, who was watching him with a look of supreme, clinical detachment.
Panic, rage, and humiliation washed over him in a sickening wave. He looked at the duffel bag full of stolen hard drives on the seat beside him.
He had lost his house. He had lost his luxury cars. His mistress had smashed his face open and fled. His mother was currently sitting in a police station being interrogated. And now, the empire he thought he built was crumbling around his neck like a stone collar.
Slowly, with trembling hands, Mason turned off the ignition.
He opened the truck door and stepped out into the chilly wind, raising his hands into the air.
May you like
As the troopers tackled him to the pavement, forcing his face against the wet gravel and snapping steel handcuffs around his wrists, Robert Vance walked over, looking down at the disgraced CEO.
"Victoria sends her regards," Robert said softly, dropping a legal notice onto the asphalt right in front of Mason’s bloody face. "See you at the arraignment, Mason."
