Chapter 3 - The Empty Driveway
The afternoon air felt colder now.
Jasper stumbled down the granite steps of The Prime Cut, his brain reeling. His mind was racing through a hundred different explanations. A banking error. A cyber attack on the corporate servers. A mistake by his accounting firm.
"Jasper, what was that?!" Gillian screeched as they hit the sidewalk, her voice echoing down the street. "I have never been so humiliated in my entire life! The manager looked at us like we were common criminals!"
"Shut up, Mom! Just shut up for a second!" Jasper shouted, running his hands through his carefully styled hair, ruining it. "I need to call my Chief Financial Officer!"
He dialed his CFO, Greg. The phone rang once before going straight to voicemail.
He dialed again. Voicemail.
"Damn it!" Jasper cursed, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. "Chloe, go get the SUV from the valet. I gave the guy the keys when we walked in."
Chloe ran toward the valet station at the front of the restaurant, while Jasper tried calling his bank’s executive concierge service.
After three minutes of automated prompts, a cold voice came on the line.
"Mr. Vance, we cannot discuss the administrative holds on your commercial and personal credit facilities over the phone. You have been issued a formal notice via certified mail to your registered business address. Please contact the legal representative of the primary guarantor, Robertson Global Holdings."
Jasper froze.
The phone almost slipped from his sweating fingers.
"Robertson... Global?" Jasper whispered, his blood turning to liquid ice. "Why the hell would Robertson Global be involved in my bank accounts?"
Before he could process the thought, Chloe came running back down the street, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement, her face twisted in utter panic.
"Jasper! Jasper!" she screamed, out of breath. "The SUV! It's gone!"
"What do you mean it's gone?!" Jasper roared, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I parked it right there!"
"The valet said two men in suits arrived fifteen minutes ago with a flatbed tow truck and a legal repossession order from Robertson Asset Management!" Chloe sobbed. "They took the keys, loaded the car, and drove away! The valet said they showed him a legal document proving you were never the title holder!"
Gillian gasped, clutching her chest as if she were having a heart attack. "My designer coat was in the back seat! My silk scarf!"
Jasper stood on the crowded Chicago sidewalk, surrounded by towering skyscrapers, feeling as though the sky itself were falling on his head.
The luxury black SUV—the vehicle he had used to establish his image as a successful tech mogul, the vehicle he had driven away in while handing his surgical-recovering wife a handful of bus fare—was gone.
His cards were dead. His corporate account was frozen. His car was repossessed.
And then, like a lightning strike illuminating a pitch-black night, the final sentence the bank representative had spoken echoed in his mind:
Contact the legal representative of the primary guarantor, Robertson Global Holdings.
Jasper remembered the investor meetings. He remembered how Harrison Capital—the massive venture fund—had agreed to meet him six months ago without an appointment. He remembered how the lead partner had smiled and said, “We have immense respect for the Robertson legacy.”
Jasper had assumed the partner was referring to a general industry term. He had never pressed for clarification because his ego was too busy absorbing the praise.
Hailey’s father.
Hailey’s father wasn't a retired residential contractor who fixed roofs in the suburbs.
Hailey’s last name was Robertson.
Hailey Robertson.
"No..." Jasper whispered, a wave of nausea washing over him so violently he had to grab a streetlight post to keep from falling. "No, no, no... it can't be."
"Jasper, what is wrong with you?!" Gillian demanded, shaking his arm. "Call an Uber! We need to get back to the house! I need to sit down!"
"I can't call an Uber, Mom," Jasper said, his voice dropping into a hollow, terrifying whisper. "My accounts are frozen. We don't have any money."
"What do you mean we don't have money?!" Gillian shrieked. "Use your phone!"
Jasper looked at his mother—the woman who had spent two years treating my daughter like an unpaid maid, the woman who had laughed as I stood outside the hospital bleeding through my dress—and for the first time in his life, he felt a surge of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"We have to take the bus," Jasper said cleanly.
May you like
Gillian stared at him as if he had spoken in an alien language. "The... the bus? The public bus? Jasper, I am your mother! I do not ride public transportation!"
"Then you can walk fifteen miles back to the house, Mom!" Jasper screamed, his voice cracking with sheer hysteria. "Because we don't have a car, we don't have a credit card, and if I don't get home right now, my entire life is going to cease to exist!"
